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"midnights" poems
when the clock ticks at 12, another minute has passed and another day has been renewed. it replenishes an entire moment that separates yesterday from today. when the clock ticks at 12, a part of me has left something for good. something that could only be retrieved by the nostalgia of the passing hours that gives a pang of discomfort and dismay. when the clock ticks at 12, a fairy godmother is there waiting for me to move past everything and start fresh, like nothing has ever happened from yesterday but when the clock ticks at 3, my emotions are scattered, eating me alive. it kicks me out of the zone - exposing me to a world of nothing but things to hide. it haunts my core, dwells with my demons, building up emotions that don't seem to collide and at 3, I find you - once again with all the sublime images we’ve captured and grand words we’ve uttered. i find you, drowning from the roots of my memoirs... and there I see how midnights took parts of me because at 3, I’ll always remember how I grew with thee a.t.
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
when the clock ticks
The self I saw in you Was at the start an album Of smiles next to Expecting eyes I was in constant Flow To try and reach My open arms towards You, A Fun Time Shining in your white dress Me in my hip pants We cross the street Like we know Each others steps The world among us Is not the best We both fear, cringe But friend, you chose to love Me, in my midnights In my last songs You gave me you In every dance Like the moments never ending Time never said goodbye yet Because my hand folds into yours My Sister in a friend
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
Selfies
midnights still find me retracing the moments that led to our thousand lakeside kisses; they were secrets left in a summer dream. each second — a bowline knot leading straight to our late night drives and vehicle breakdowns and last minute goodbyes at the break of dawn. midnights still find me sleeping next to a shoebox of the books you left; i still hear your voice when i read the lines of your favorite paragraphs the clock hands, mocking, leading me through a maze of memories and parking lot conversations. midnights still find me rewriting histories with resin-pressed flowers, maybe the petals will point to where i started losing you — and maybe it's in every direction. the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs leading to road trips and to all the bus stops we missed, kissing; now i still miss my stop without your lips next to mine. and midnights still find me writing poems like these but clearly, you're too far off for these words to reach. and now, midnights still find me wanting you back. and 'til now, midnights still find you gone.
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Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC
hiraeth
i’ll waste all my chances at heaven darling — i’ll waste all my chances for the midnights we spent dreaming, stranded inside an old lighthouse as the waves crashed on the shore. i’ll waste my chances for a mouthful kisses, dissolving the gaps between the stars. i’ll waste my chances for a sliver of early morning poems, for sunsets dripping on our skin, for seconds where i can hold your hand — free and unafraid, for minutes where i can be a sinner and you, my capital sin. for hours where i can melt all the world and its hurtful words inside your arms. darling, i’ll waste all my chances at heaven if i can’t love you way past its walls. i’ll waste all my chances at heaven — and i’ll waste them all on you.
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Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
chances at heaven
Born to the night in the cry of wolves, We are….inked lovers spilling secrets, under velvet skies, Shrouding the night in silver spools; The season of silver silence, hangs upon shades of silken soul, This midnight offering, a white entice; My hair shimmers brightly, a wet fleece of gold, of shadow and starlight, And shimmering hues, emerald and sapphire breathe kindred embers into the bellows of passion; Challenging the flame that burns; entwined.... Whispered intrigue lays in the crescent of moon, In an eminent blaze of sweetest surrender Unborn whispers lie entwined with heated petals, silken; We shiver....I shiver, I am warm arms embraced; Your lips hard yet soft against my side, The feel of flesh warmed to a rising flame... The long moon steps into midnight; My ******* full of your hands as candles, pour hard against the ebon fall, Luscious to the hush of soft smiles Steeled eloquence flows in ribbon ripples; Winter sown, blood quilled, in midnights cast; Cloaked in beautiful, shadow's bed a bouquet of lacy foxglove... Eyes closed and deep of breath, Moistness seeps the sugared flower, and longing surges deep; Shudder me wicked, drench me quick; The wildness swirls inside as he moves like a shadow over my heart His tongue eager to swim the gushing urge; Touching, slick-slide, the soothe of smooth fingers slip past softness; Lips cross, moist to moan me quick, sliding to quivers. Thigh's whispering and heart pounding , Soft, the wind blows, tapping walls, fingers dancing And shadow sways to moonlight... Velvet-soft, the sweet of tongue's mesh, Fire burning, The tips of breast's aroused by the touch of a slow hand lover; Your tongue gently rolls, wet and burning hot, Hungrily, it feeds diving deep, and sandalwood spires upon the malachite air, And burning murmurs the silent song, pleasures Your flame to touch me hot, softly hard, Against the darting quivering rose, stokes sweet, the flame of conjure.... I weep as you strain to slay this huntress of indolent submission; Descending into darkness, I squirm upon your touch, lifting my altar upon your hunger, Eyes lost to ecstasy, the flow quickens from abyssal moans; Overflowing with need, release bound by gold shattered stars Suckling whispered thoughts; With us, for us, in us, in dreams, in thoughts, in love ....And in....time my love..................
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Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
Twin Flame Dance:
Born to the night in the cry of wolves, We are….inked lovers spilling secrets, under velvet skies, Shrouding the night in silver spools; The season of silver silence, hangs upon shades of silken soul, This midnight offering, a white entice; My hair shimmers brightly, a wet fleece of gold, of shadow and starlight, And shimmering hues, emerald and sapphire breathe kindred embers into the bellows of passion; Challenging the flame that burns; entwined.... Whispered intrigue lays in the crescent of moon, In an eminent blaze of sweetest surrender Unborn whispers lie entwined with heated petals, silken; We shiver....I shiver, I am warm arms embraced; Your lips hard yet soft against my side, The feel of flesh warmed to a rising flame... The long moon steps into midnight; My ******* full of your hands as candles, pour hard against the ebon fall, Luscious to the hush of soft smiles Steeled eloquence flows in ribbon ripples; Winter sown, blood quilled, in midnights cast; Cloaked in beautiful, shadow's bed a bouquet of lacy foxglove... Eyes closed and deep of breath, Moistness seeps the sugared flower, and longing surges deep; Shudder me wicked, drench me quick; The wildness swirls inside as he moves like a shadow over my heart His tongue eager to swim the gushing urge; Touching, slick-slide, the soothe of smooth fingers slip past softness; Lips cross, moist to moan me quick, sliding to quivers. Thigh's whispering and heart pounding , Soft, the wind blows, tapping walls, fingers dancing And shadow sways to moonlight... Velvet-soft, the sweet of tongue's mesh, Fire burning, The tips of breast's aroused by the touch of a slow hand lover; Your tongue gently rolls, wet and burning hot, Hungrily, it feeds diving deep, and sandalwood spires upon the malachite air, And burning murmurs the silent song, pleasures Your flame to touch me hot, softly hard, Against the darting quivering rose, stokes sweet, the flame of conjure.... I weep as you strain to slay this huntress of indolent submission; Descending into darkness, I squirm upon your touch, lifting my altar upon your hunger, Eyes lost to ecstasy, the flow quickens from abyssal moans; Overflowing with need, release bound by gold shattered stars Suckling whispered thoughts; With us, for us, in us, in dreams, in thoughts, in love ....And in....time my love..................
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46
The singing of phones cut midway The conversations that flow exactly after The unnoticed change from night to day The difference in context of everything that mattered Now there was... The silence of phones that used to ring nonstop The ringing of phones currently unanswered The mornings when it's impossible to get up The middays wherein silence is heard The nights when it's impossible to sleep The midnights when eyes won't even blink The day breaks that slowly creep The dawns that felt like the sun was going to sink The dusks wherein the rain poured The fading daylight which was warmly gazed upon The darkness of a nightfall which enveloped that unspoken word The gust of air that continues changing from here on The burning of letters that should have existed And The writing of letters that no longer exist
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:43 AM UTC
Should
i don't want a rarity a full moon that only floats in your midnight sky once a month nighttime feels so open, you shout things you'd never whisper in the daylight and let go of the fear that surfaces with the sun i think i'll break all your clocks at twelve in the morning to immortalize our candid midnights, so that your worries will never rise
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
midnight
A timber night in a dark way can't stay for long plowed down, scorched down  - must be torn down kings of city pipes, dusty concrete heirlooms, read a bible to sleep Wake in the morning, sun rays shine through dust ridden books Morals, condoned in heart shaped smoke clouds Greed's arms will swell rejecting midnights' hiss' "Where will they live?" 'Sirrrrrrrr' 'Homeeee'...... Floating like gas particles, words lost. A stand alone will die to unknown prosperity ropes straggle helpless branches Clenching their last breathes, the weeping skies sit silently Hateful hateful hunger, feeding the bodies thirst Our midnight Cowboy song goes: Manufactured green, leaving scorched earth barren, unwritten torch, unseen For we saw what we wanted to.
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
Cowboy song
Angel? I had my Angel, For that one night, And for those many Days, noons & midnights, I've been living in her dreams, Dreams I see with my eyes open, Tears craving to fall each day, But failing to fall every time. Guess I had become too old, For having tears seep down my cheeks, And I regret daily for I had fret Days, noons & midnights, With her stabbing herself, To make me happy & smile, But all I had for telling her, Were my words of Anger, Just Anger?
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
Anger?
You still eat away at my chest like a mole finding its way out of my body. God, it’s been ten years now since you last wrote me a letter sealed with a pressed, dead daisy and a ghostly kiss mark, yet they’re still dying under my thumb. These days slip by and I can no longer write you poems, my dearest, sweet September — but still, I hope that you have in your chest all my papercuts from unbridled letters, all my quiet midnights, and all of my unwritten words; they are yours for missing. Must you leave a girl then, darling, whose only fault was being one?
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Sep 20, 2022
Sep 20, 2022 at 9:43 PM UTC
Dearest, Sweet September
You told me that the stars were your best friends. That you paint the twilight sky midnights and crimsons and magentas. That each comet tail was a strand of your fallen hair, torn away by your tender fingertips, and that each meteor was a bit of you shedding your broken skin. You screamed to me that there was life, beyond our little self-aware planet. That you had met them all, shook their hands, kissed their babies. You were appreciated, not like home. They loved you. Plutonian dollars held your face, and Pluto was, indeed, a planet- noted, and you screeched; Your favorite, in fact. You told me you were God-- and your eyes those blank, lost eyes, they shone with your smile for the first time in the infinity of the universe. You believed yourself, and I couldn't bring myself to deny your honesty. You can be my God, if it makes any difference.
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Honesty
Raccoon tapping on the windowpane Fuzzy beggar, growing tame Evenings longer, midnights colder      My love and I      Just a little bit older Quarter moon above the trees Wind blows softly, rustling leaves Would you love me if I lost my hair?      No, my dear      And don't you dare Dog curling up by the potbelly stove Whiskers peek from the old mouse hole Grandma's quilt has a brand new patch      No more cookies      Or I'll get fat Rocking chair got a squeak again Sniff the air, smells like rain Horned owl hoots from out the wood      I believe      All life is good Before I die I want to know All the winds and why they blow All the forests, every stream      Why you smile, babe      When you dream
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Raccoon Song
A priest arrived by ambulance to bless our sudden kiss A doctor brought his bag but cannot treat such things as this My jewelry is just colored rocks like pretty polished hollyhocks in silver settings gone to curls the same as any other girl's but I could be your only love. A flautist played our melody in notes so fine and clear That summer brought her midnights close so that the moon could hear the notes, the song so marvelous the player played so long for us the priest laid down his holy flask the doctor blushed before he asked if I could be your only love. An urchin took a photograph of you in uniform You gave me spice and chocolates to keep my fever warm and lucky is the lucky bird who calls and calls a wafting word In this peculiar pregnant dawn his curious and constant song that I could be your only love.
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Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
Your Only Love
NEW neighbors came to the corner house at Congress and Green streets. The look of their clean white curtains was the same as the rim of a nun's bonnet. One way was an oyster pail factory, one way they made candy, one way paper boxes, strawboard cartons. The warehouse trucks shook the dust of the ways loose and the wheels whirled dust-there was dust of hoof and wagon wheel and rubber tire-dust of police and fire wagons-dust of the winds that circled at midnights and noon listening to no prayers. "O mother, I know the heart of you," I sang passing the rim of a nun's bonnet-O white curtains-and people clean as the prayers of Jesus here in the faded ramshackle at Congress and Green. Dust and the thundering trucks won-the barrages of the street wheels and the lawless wind took their way-was it five weeks or six the little mother, the new neighbors, battled and then took away the white prayers in the windows?
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2.8k
Clean Curtains
Darkness brings thoughts of you Over my concrete walls like fog Cloud this mind Move oh so slowly Filling each valley with an unclear desire Not a moment left untamed Gently roaming and expanding A thousand midnights yet, not one the same So afraid of morning Clean and new But left behind, a beautiful sight This subtle glimpse of you Which lay upon each blade To soak back through To the core of my mind So still and so confused
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Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Fog
Shot in the head? Shot gun In the passenger seat? Shot 72 times... through the windshield? Shot of bad ****** >l-- Best friend shot? Wife? Husband? Brother or sister shot? like  Marley or tupac? Mom or dad? Suicide shot ¿ SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! too many and not enough To drown. A shot of grace                                       ( Shot-up Into the sky   ) BIG-BANG-BACK-BOOM shot from the living room                     Exploding into fires.  § '''A million-billion bright stars''' Too many fluorescent nights And shiny cars =π °   ° We need more •••Blood-moon-shots••• A wake-you-up call Red sea midnights And Icarus falls | | | | Shoot us down Collapsing legs ¥ And a broken crown #Please crush these bones# Shatter femurs Splatter marrow '   ''' '''*''' ''' ' Crack Tuberosities And break me A crashing drone \\    '     \\     '      '  ¿' Before an invisible king Sending me back To his throne Someday You might answer me So I pray Don't you abandon me. Shoot up shots of saint brokenhearted brokenness And see What no-one else sees A Sea Of saltwater tears Drown away All our fears Shoot me please •   •    • •Blast aw • a •    y      • All the fears Dream of: An infinite sway Into the infinite place I can be A galaxy---or some other cool face Of astronomical astronomy Perhaps a nebulosity A sign Or constellation Advertising Across a blood-moon-sky The end of time COMING SOON! |   | A hidden message... I look to the east ---> Your face from the sky **Saying: Hear you me? Someday soon You'll be Here With Me                             ax.** ©Pax 2013
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 6:01 AM UTC
blood-moon-skies
Shot in the head? Shot gun In the passenger seat? Shot 72 times... through the windshield? Shot of bad ****** >l-- Best friend shot? Wife? Husband? Brother or sister shot? like  Marley or tupac? Mom or dad? Suicide shot ¿ SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! too many and not enough To drown. A shot of grace                                       ( Shot-up Into the sky   ) BIG-BANG-BACK-BOOM shot from the living room                     Exploding into fires.  § '''A million-billion bright stars''' Too many fluorescent nights And shiny cars =π °   ° We need more •••Blood-moon-shots••• A wake-you-up call Red sea midnights And Icarus falls | | | | Shoot us down Collapsing legs ¥ And a broken crown #Please crush these bones# Shatter femurs Splatter marrow '   ''' '''*''' ''' ' Crack Tuberosities And break me A crashing drone \\    '     \\     '      '  ¿' Before an invisible king Sending me back To his throne Someday You might answer me So I pray Don't you abandon me. Shoot up shots of saint brokenhearted brokenness And see What no-one else sees A Sea Of saltwater tears Drown away All our fears Shoot me please •   •    • •Blast aw • a •    y      • All the fears Dream of: An infinite sway Into the infinite place I can be A galaxy---or some other cool face Of astronomical astronomy Perhaps a nebulosity A sign Or constellation Advertising Across a blood-moon-sky The end of time COMING SOON! |   | A hidden message... I look to the east ---> Your face from the sky **Saying: Hear you me? Someday soon You'll be Here With Me                             ax.** ©Pax 2013
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100
Stars are drawn in the exact shape I love you – to the moon and back, going a distance like Santa’s sleigh making the rounds every black sequence, the Earth does not cease rotation, so stars do not blink or forget to twinkle when God does not shovel dark clouds: pillows of snow that have been urinated in, still fresh beyond the membrane of something grey. I do not mind if you call that ugly. I understand if my rural nights are frightening to you – they were to me at first, they did not feel like a time, rather the absence of and I do not mind if my poems feel that way sometimes. I write this because the evening never stops – five o’clock somewhere and midnights too, which we pale by blonde stars, the hair color of mine you despised resurrected. Never stopping as you and I do not. My ex-girlfriend bought me a star once, though I did not know you then, it was still our shape the contour of your hair clogged in my bathtub the blue moods of mine dyed purple, almost lilac by you – I think of how her ******* got in the way when I tried to listen to her heartbeat but yours is always there, never stopping like stars never blinking in the exact shape I will always love you.
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
constellation
the waters edge under the midnights star she walks slow where the waters overflow the sea barefoot in the salt waters and sands carrying her sandals and wide dreams you can feel them walking there by her side a soft magic that holds she talks to me in such voice to lend me to the dream and i give myself to it free i am the candle flickering in her window i am the chair that she curls up in wrapping herself against the winters chill and i keep her warm and safe i keep the hours that she waits here like a fine dream thistles and snow so long ago she walks slow on the edge of the sea as day kisses night barefoot in the soft sands caressed by the warm sea like a song for the heart like a forever more thistles and snow so long ago
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
thistles and snow
I tried to write a poem for the moon. I searched the earth for words worth wooing you. I made some pretty phrases for your face and your phases, and thought I’d said it all. But I’ve said nothing, because Earth words won’t work. I’ve just made a pile of noise from stupid earthling dirt. I sent the pile into space, fueled by foolish grins, and waited (with pride!) for tides to bring you in. My words were just quiet, colored dust against your atmosphere. My grins and smiles can’t carry those dusty piles of Noise into the wind hard or far enough to make you near. So I must DO. To make a journey to the moon, I’ve got to makes some moves instead of barking at your light. I’ll start with exercise, building thighs and biceps to climb the skies between you and I. Keeping shoulders wide so if You light my planet up I’ll keep you up at night. Then I’ll scan by hand your every surface, where rough meets smooth, where your smooth keeps on going, and where your toughs meet your trues. I won’t leave it to my luck to have my love reach the moon. I’ll learn how soft and where to land. I’ll learn how strong you are and when I need to have plan. When to take my helmet off when you need me to be a man. So, as moons do, if you get blue I’ll have found and know and own the fastest way to get myself to you. Next I’ll find out every stone that broke your heart, every rock that smashed your sides (starting with my pride) and make them pay for not watching their orbits. I’ll clear the way and make the oceans do three quarters worth of work. they keep the rhythm while you dance around the Earth. If the sun falls behind your time, I’ll fire that ball of fire, float around and put up flyers, and find another star to make you shine. Now, If I ever prove to be a man who got the moon I’ll still fill my pockets with dusty piles Of favorite words From Earth every time I visit you. And when I know I’m close -it’s when my smile beams in your beams- I’ll ignite those words I’ve gathered and shower you with comets upon comets of compliments. Over time, in walking your valleys, Napping in and mapping your grooves, throwing comets at your craters, and Staring at you Through the roof; One day those marks start shifting into the words I made sure to do. At midnights and sometimes noons They’ll see me from the Earth Sifting out your smile, glowing in your dunes. Written on your face in shiny piles, “This Man Is Over The Moon.”
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Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 5:46 AM UTC
M is for Woman
I tried to write a poem for the moon. I searched the earth for words worth wooing you. I made some pretty phrases for your face and your phases, and thought I’d said it all. But I’ve said nothing, because Earth words won’t work. I’ve just made a pile of noise from stupid earthling dirt. I sent the pile into space, fueled by foolish grins, and waited (with pride!) for tides to bring you in. My words were just quiet, colored dust against your atmosphere. My grins and smiles can’t carry those dusty piles of Noise into the wind hard or far enough to make you near. So I must DO. To make a journey to the moon, I’ve got to makes some moves instead of barking at your light. I’ll start with exercise, building thighs and biceps to climb the skies between you and I. Keeping shoulders wide so if You light my planet up I’ll keep you up at night. Then I’ll scan by hand your every surface, where rough meets smooth, where your smooth keeps on going, and where your toughs meet your trues. I won’t leave it to my luck to have my love reach the moon. I’ll learn how soft and where to land. I’ll learn how strong you are and when I need to have plan. When to take my helmet off when you need me to be a man. So, as moons do, if you get blue I’ll have found and know and own the fastest way to get myself to you. Next I’ll find out every stone that broke your heart, every rock that smashed your sides (starting with my pride) and make them pay for not watching their orbits. I’ll clear the way and make the oceans do three quarters worth of work. they keep the rhythm while you dance around the Earth. If the sun falls behind your time, I’ll fire that ball of fire, float around and put up flyers, and find another star to make you shine. Now, If I ever prove to be a man who got the moon I’ll still fill my pockets with dusty piles Of favorite words From Earth every time I visit you. And when I know I’m close -it’s when my smile beams in your beams- I’ll ignite those words I’ve gathered and shower you with comets upon comets of compliments. Over time, in walking your valleys, Napping in and mapping your grooves, throwing comets at your craters, and Staring at you Through the roof; One day those marks start shifting into the words I made sure to do. At midnights and sometimes noons They’ll see me from the Earth Sifting out your smile, glowing in your dunes. Written on your face in shiny piles, “This Man Is Over The Moon.”
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71
I seek the mystery of the night, I crave the one wearing midnights lace I need to see the depths of her darkness and become lost in her velvet embrace I seek truths unseen by normal men, only ever beheld under a sunless sky To humble myself and plead again and again, her attention a shooting star, still catch it I will try Her skin dark, with a sheen as though stars are lined underneath Her eyes all seeing, the secrets they hold and the truth they know Her lips the lock in which few if any man or woman hold the true key A blasphemous thought to think there is a flaw in her from head to toe I am mesmerized by the dark skin of the lady with a lions name I am trapped by the possibilities of the girl with the gun firing roses The dark woman, a lioness that no sane person will ever try and tame I am enchanted, at great risks I must get to know her dispite the threat she poses
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May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC
She who wears midnight
goodbye love, goodbye midnights and jars of sweet tea, fairy lights, "overcoming" anything, crooked fountains and oaks; goodbye love, goodbye to your mother and your sister, to the mary in the rocks, the knots in your forehead when you were at a loss. I hold my own hand and I snuggle myself to sleep, there is a hole in my heart if you get close enough to look, goodbye love, goodbye to these words you'll never notice, to the moment I knew this was the autumn I wrote about before. happy one year, love
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:18 AM UTC
she's made of sulfur
LET the crows go by hawking their caw and caw. They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere. Let 'em hawk their caw and caw. Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump. He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of years And the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head. Let his red head drum and drum. Let the dark pools hold the birds in a looking-glass. And if the pool wishes, let it shiver to the blur of many wings, old swimmers from old places. Let the redwing streak a line of vermillion on the green wood lines. And the mist along the river fix its purple in lines of a woman's shawl on lazy shoulders.
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2k
River Roads
The lust we share on cold midnights, lucid and gentle but so passionate and rough can keep me hypnotized. Translucent blue eyes shine like moonstone, glinting bright with love hidden from sight. I want to call you mine but I know better than to pine over a man up way too high, stuck on cloud nine not planning to come down or to get sober. I’ll let myself get lost a little while in the forest of curls behind your ears. I’ll wander your body concealing smiles that give away feelings that interfere with the promise to love myself before someone else. I am who I’m living for.
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
The Illusion
Midnight, And the pale moon over my head, My lonely nights and Memories haunting me like a wolf Ferocious and hungry. Midnight, And a vast forest of yew trees Darkness and silence, And an owl watching like a ghost. Amidst the darkness I found a voice: ‘I’ll love you forever, if you let me’. Midnight, And vigilantes with wide eyes. I never knew what to do With the unconnected clues, But you would always Ask the right questions. Midnight, And a faithless heart like mine That saw monsters and terrors. My heart like a cold star in the distance. But you held me close And put me in the moss With a blanket of new, unrecognised, kindness Midnight, And a reason to be alive: I have finally found a place to rest. Like a meteor you broke into my space And I was surprised to notice How lovely it is To rely on someone So completely. It was midnight, When I realised: I am here, I can breathe, And I can finally love.
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Oct 22, 2022
Oct 22, 2022 at 12:20 PM UTC
Midnights