I want to kiss all your scars until they heal with memories of me tightly woven in.
She drifts to the gust of her gut feeling.
The love here is sleeping.
Orchestrate my sacred name. Pull me by the bows and braids. Kill my inner peace with words you said I used in vain.
Believe all that you want as a young fawn. Skip in your parade of doves. All you see is love, sweet love; never understanding some.
Batter, beat, and belittle your own,
For love’s a sacred game we only play at home.
There is a collector of art who has once said he is attracted to those paintings that he cannot understand. He would purchase a painting and hang it in his home or studio to look at it everyday, study the painting, and hopefully find its meaning. He searched for understanding; for answers.
You, my darling, are my abstract painting. A remarkable wash of rare mediums and marks and each day I must study you with care, with love, with patience. Until, I carry those virtues with me in all aspects of life and continue to love you with all the confusion and clutter.
So I’ll watch you, I’ll touch you, I’ll get close, I’ll back away, I’ll rest, I’ll resist, I will be entertained and frustrated. But I will never forget why you’re here
And it doesn’t include my need to understand at all.
She was wild with her hair. Tangled, dry, and framed to perfection as the wind blew, rounding her wild face perfectly.
She was wild in her eyes. Narrowed to attack, wide when surprised. Emotions so deep yet sat on her pride.
She was wild with her teeth. The kind you watch eat because they are so fascinating. Chicken chewed down to the bone and a snap, suck, slurp, of the marrow.
Listen to my shadows speak;
They are love letters from a past with dreams of a different future.
“Do you want to go on an adventure?”
This was the first message she had sent to him since exchanging numbers a week before. There wasn’t much to do in this small town, but drinking at the local watering hole was not going to be one of them. Not tonight. There was something different about this one. An outsider in every way. A man who walked into the room and everyone stared. A majestic man of six-foot-never-ending. A magnetic energy that she was drawn to in an unstoppable force.
She continued, “There’s a place, just beyond the freeway off Washington St. Once you pass the last signal light, keep driving. Follow the signs to the dirt parking lot and I’ll be waiting.”
Under a frolicsome full moon she awaited her safe stranger and once he arrived, hours went by before she remembered time existed. They swapped stories and interests, heartbreaks and failures.
Bewitched to balance a biography between an identity and an ego, their eyes glistened over and they kissed. At least once. Untimely and right. Instincts hunted a wild within them and won. Rightly so in the midst of a midnight desert.
Enslaved in a summer’s end, the night shook sweat from the heat of the car. Daybreak cracked through the palms and an oasis of love could be seen by the land. “Love looms on our horizon. Look what we’ve created,” croaked the mountains.
As if he had heard the mountain, he awoke, took her hand and walked to the highest point of the land. She followed; watched as he said not one word, but poured unspoken admiration into the sunrise.
Hooked on the fire red beams, he smiled, took a deep breath and a long sigh.
And she fell in love.
“Do you want to go on an adventure?” She said again with an illimitable grin.
Our souls can’t bear to be apart.
Mine kicks to be released from this confinement through the palm of my hand
She needs to find yours.
My soul screams your name,
Receives phantom squeezes in bed,
walks to the tip of my tongue to drop off your name with three soft kisses.
Until you return.
There’s no rush for us
Father Time keeps his promise
We are right in line.