All I am aware of right now, this very moment, is that if I am to kiss you, my heart will follow suit.

It isn’t quite fair, on either of us really. Why should my heart get in the way of us kissing? We both are feeling this intense sexual attraction toward each other. We both desire beyond the physical realms that tie us to a mere glance; as your eyes trace my words, the words I choose carefully. 

Because when I am seated beside you, my soul comes alive. It breaths, entirely on its own. And I am breathing twice as hard and as much, while my pulse races, and my cheeks rouge and my fingertips ignite; Aching in wanting to touch you, and all this is beyond my control, because my soul compels me to move into you.

I won’t though. I won’t move closer to you than I am already. There are enough earthly elements separating us and I am controlling them; or possibly, you are. Since the time and space between us now, could calculate into centuries of longing and waiting.

swept Off Your Feet

When was the last time someone whisked into your life and utterly left you breathless, but feeling that finally you are breathing for the first time in a long time?

Even if that breathe of air was momentary,

And stirred your conscious and subconscious thoughts

that moved the emotions of your mind, heart, soul

like a bolt of lightning had struck you and filtered through your veins.

The veins that move the blood from one end to the next and that never stop moving because it is part of life and living,

And had thrilled you so, that you felt bemused but alive and awake

Time has no Qualms

Time has no qualms.

She holds no hostages, nor concerns herself with the enemy.

She does not consort or negotiate,

Nor does she leap boundaries or chase mourning’s.

She is not indecisive, neither steady

She won’t spend moments pacing relentlessly, nor answer patience knocking.

Long languished evenings are not where she moods herself,

Nor in the steady worships of towering Gods.

Where mortals breath pollute the air,

Mercy is not where she comes to rest.

Time does not come when you call,

She offers no solace, nor renders respite.

She knows not how to follow suit, nor

Pardons the waste encircling her.

She has no memories of regret,

Of inherited wars that pillage and plunder.

Where refuge is offered, she is defiant.

She is not familiar with the devoted,

While the dismantled race befall her.

Bargaining with blind faith does not phase her,

Nor do Tempests thrust.

Time does not pave the path shorter

She won’t know how to tie the inevitability of a loose shoelace

On hollow grounds where most broken hearts linger.

She is blind to the wells of tears that form around her, and to

The stench of loss and longing caused by her sister.

Time will not encourage a soft breeze like that of a glance from a secret admirer, nor

Keepsake a moment of anger, hatred or resentment.

She knows nothing of the past, the present or lifetimes ahead

the Old Record Player

I have spent hours listening to the Moon shed her tales about her Sun while she lit up your geographical face.

Long nights spent in awe as her light graced your sleeping beauty, watching how your breath moved your body, enhancing more of you than my day to day kept me from seeing.

Yes! My eyes have traced your soft skin that throughout the years your woes have torn at and behind all the scars and the memories, I see your youth and playfulness.

A playfulness that calls upon my inner child. My child that hides behind trees and wonders and wanders; Alone and weary, and yet you! You my darling extend your hand so that I may touch your fingertips with mine with hope and promises of belonging.

Yes! There are many things we keep sweeping beneath the rug, and while that rug grows with every unresolved issue that taunts and haunts me somehow, I know nothing nestled or hidden has ever gone misplaced because every ounce of you swims in my presence.

It is no secret I long for you, and Yes I truly do! truly in the words that I speak and the unspoken ones and although the distance between us in the literal sense seem minute compared to the silence I endure when you deliberately find the time to not engage with me… I still hear you. I listen.

I listen to the breeze your life blows, and the spinning of your wheel the Fates hold; like an old record player and you, you are the song I dance to.

I have loved beyond my capacity. Beyond and further than anyone’s ability to dream so. Awoken to true love that endures and motions unconditions.

For the first time in my life, I have looked upon love and said yes! Of which has altered my entire life. In a single moment. I can never turn back because I said Yes to you.

All of you.

Tiger Lilies

I think about Tiger Lilies all the time.
When I do, my heart and mind unify and know no boundaries.
While the one notions the other, The other must reply.
Tiger Lilies venerated, pulsating through my veins,
Breathing life into one another, absorbing the valleys of your face.
How the curves of your lips move when you smile, and the pull forms in the corners where
I find myself swimming alone, for days.
They know the swell of your cheeks that emblazon,
Fields of rouged Tiger Lilies waltzing around me,
“I dare you to love me!” is what they bloom.
The reverence they feel know the crevices beneath your eyes, and
Often wonder if your Chestnut colored eyes turn Amber when you fall, or
What moves you to shed tears that breaks the dam wall?
They have followed those crevices that meet the corners of your eyes,
Where the brows reach out to touch a portion of your smile,
The way my fingertips long to trace the outlines of your soul.
The impulsive rouged you that tickles me incessantly,
Berths the key I hold where my fingertips explore the outline of your jaw,
Travelling up to the wild that is your hair
Where our compulsions wander through the boundless essence that howls at the moon,
The way my mouth should bite and pull the back of your neck.
My unison only knows the idea of your breath on my skin, when the knot between us tightens.
Bewitched by your ardent heartbeat and the ebb and flow of the beads of sweat between us.
Beads of you I would carry like pearls around my neck while the waves build up in the horizon before hitting the shore.
The pair within me churns, longing to feel you stain my flesh of that which is all becoming of you.
The center most dark and light sanctions of our souls where we find one another most nights, but
When the crisp air settles and finds us there
My eyes flutter awake to the ceiling that knows how often I think about you.

poker With The Gods

Dear, you have been playing poker with the Gods for far too long. Remember that they see everything. Your fault was already pre-planned. Constructed insidiously. They have fed off you for many years. Your joy was taken for granted to fuel their greed. Every surprised moment of excitement was already laid upon the chips as you displayed your winning cards. They stole your laughter as you hurried to take your winnings. They plotted your smile before shuffling the cards. The Fates stood by, in the shadows of the room strumming your thread like a harp. Music. How beautifully distracting. Time fails to elude her touch.
While magic was seemingly on your side, Hecate holds no mercy. She keeps her hand firmly on your shoulder. Ah! What wonderful support from an old friend that doubles and triples with encouragement to continue; muffling your instincts, the only true emotion on your side. How will you ever know the difference between a friend and foe if you keep deafening yourself to the obvious whispers each card warns? Your winning hand will soon betray you. Like the knife in your back that you keep fresh unconsciously. You keep playing poker with the Gods. The faith you have in yourself whimpers in comparison to the blind faith you have for the others around the table. Lay down those cards, and follow your wit. Discard the hand that leans on your shoulder. That friend is no friend, dear. She weighs you down to tire your ambitions that sees with the influence and not the eye.
Change the scene, and ask the harp to come closer. The maestro’s behind those strings will fall into the light from the dark. Open the window that once was not there and allow air to filter out the words in the music of Time. Listen to the whispers the cards scream and cut through the deafening silence by throwing your cards down. The sword has always been in your hands.
Stand up and rock the table, like those that waver the book in your face and condition you. Shock the dead mass around you and find enough breath to rattle the chips. Stand taller and motion to the door that Time forgot. Open it. Light up the room.

we Forgot to Remember

Stay as beautiful as you are, as
Humble as you present yourself, as
Creative in every thought you stumble upon, as
Liberating in every step you carry, as
Motivated in every word you utter, as
Enduring as I know you to be, as
Endearing as you are when you dance, and

Remember you are never too far from touching grace,
What you will shall be granted,
Although your fate in this lifetime is sealed, you have power to change your destiny,
Life is too short to allow others the privilege of hindering what identifies you,
When in the moment that fills your essence with glee, stretch its arms to remain in it as long as you want it, Time has no issue,
By listening to beyond words said: you will hear what hasn’t been uttered, and

Know that there are little gifts all around you, Look further and deeper: by doing that, you see what the eye skips,
There is magic everywhere: unveil its beauty,
Romance is something said, something done, and mostly something forethought of: it is Divine because it is rare and leaves immortal prints on our hearts and memories: know it is always around you. Imagination is life’s secret trick to keeping us youthful and alive: trust in it,

Remain as passionate as your heart’s determination to beat,
You have pillars beside you, and one behind you and only you know their names; I doubt they will ever let you fall.


the Tears of Demeter

The night gently comes with the breath of a sleeping giant, darkening the light while lovers find their way into each other’s arms. Whispers are heard on the breeze passing through, like children playing hide and seek amongst shadowy trees, and while the Earth nestles to find comfort on her side the veil of Erebus embraces her with his warmth.

She looked at life through the eyes of a poet, seated by her window peering out as dusk settled in. This is how she imagined light dancing into night. She got up to make herself coffee one last time before finding her sleep, and as she steadily poured and stirred her cup she wondered how love found its place in such a ruthless world. She had been sleeping badly for several weeks, and found that not even in dreams could she escape her heart that fell asunder. No distraction worthy enough to separate the ache. She made way to her room, and crawled into bed heavy with thoughts and longing for change. Sipping her coffee while watching whatever was on television, and somewhere in between reality and fantasy she managed to calm her emotional storm. She had found the courtship of her fantasies and memories of broken romance a bit too comforting, and would reason with the reality of the situation by beating down at her wild imagination. Memories can taint a romantic heart when the heart knows nothing of what the mind has decided upon. She chose to walk away from the toxic mess and often reminded herself why but no matter the logic, there had been no respite from the regret that lingered. She reminded herself continuously like a broken record; The arm’s length she would receive often, despite her courage to always approach love with an open heart. How conversations where generally one way, and how many phone calls were spent in vain. Reminiscing of the bad would generally be considered good in certain circumstances if sharpened well and proper, but no matter the sting of tracking back there are those gifted given moments that meander and cut right through all the bad. The heart always interjects.

She sipped the last of her coffee and made herself comfortable in bed. She looked out her bedroom window at the Stars before closing her eyes, wishing for the sake of wishing. Perhaps tomorrow would feel the same despite the manifestations of change.

the Sunflowers unrequited love

“I love you.” I whispered. Soft enough for her not to hear me, however loud enough for the winds to carry. Someone somewhere must have noticed; Feelings like this hardly go unnoticed. She was far to self-consumed to concern herself with what messages my eyes were conveying, to ever acknowledge the “I love you, in spite of it all!”; In spite of the year I spent cradling her, to only receive tokens in return. Gestures of materialistic ideals that could be bought as proof that she is loving me. However, in spite of it all, I still loved her and all that followed suit because behind the keepsakes were moments that I placed value on. Priceless moments, and I remember every single detail.

the Harp of Vega

“Her laughter, her whispers, her breath emblazoning my flesh,

to moments, the measures, the reasons that bind me to her,

the sweet soulful sounds that knows my heart, its wealth

and how it enriches the whole.” – Belvedere