In the fields of loneliness,
my lips touch grace,
my tongue speaks love.

Night time triggers loss,
A stolen kiss disappears into the black of evenings sorrow.

Halted breath.
Staggers heart.
Sweet desire.

In the folds of loneliness,
I wait for morning,
so I can breathe again.

Samira Wyld      #AWyldLoveNote

On a painted dream,
my weathered heart
made love against the pane of broken glass.

Crushed velvet held in a tight grip,
hugged me from the inside out,
drowning in the barbed water of discontent.

Languishing beneath the tree of hope,
nothing more than desires end to mock, and ridicule.
Despair gracious, not in its wisdom, but in its remorse.

Dear lover,
I am not broken,
Nor is the earth that supports my aching frame of strong bones.

Each one may snap,
and snap again,
until the limbs become flesh ridden bones,
falling,
into the sea,
where the light is,
where the peace is.

Come join me on this painted dream...

Samira Wyld      #AWyldLoveNote

Sally left the farm years ago
when the times changed
to a postmodern-like
Foggy Bottom;
Eli back from Paris
walking the dank
yellow fields smoking
joint after joint;
the farm changed to
her islands; Samira goes
walking w/ Eli
her Iranian eyes covered
& uncovered by
Turkish journalists whilst
Eli waits for Sally;
moonrise his song;
stop kissing us said the
white cows on the hill;
Eli's cosmic brain conjures
up Sally in her techno-
late modernist era
of the time Sally became
this virtual monster
living below the
corporate seas of other
living pin-up monsters;
Eli sat beneath a big oak
overlooking the dry marsh
hoping for the Lady
of the Lake or Veronica
Lake or Sally or an alien
monster's bride; Eli knows
Sally isn't coming