Monthly Archives: July 2014

Lovers at a Crossroads

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Him:

He wants to be free but doesn’t know how and the struggle is in the seeking, the suffering is in the now when he longs for the kiss of the woman he desires, but the shadow of another leaves him feeling like a liar. He’s a man living in the spaces between each breath, trying so hard to know himself, and no matter how much he wants another life, he’ll stay in this place that gives him such strife. He must resign himself now to the truth of this path, ‘tis as simple as a problem found in first-grade math.

 

Her:

She can’t be his plaything, for she’s a woman of flesh and bone, with a heart that beats pure behind a wall of solid stone. She’s a need for a man who knows how to break clean thru, expose her, make her vulnerable – none of which he cares to do. As sad as it makes her she’ll say goodbye, for she’s got to live her truth and not this battered lie. They both knew this moment would come anyway, may as well make it now, may as well be today.

 

 

 

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/marcelyne/2515487161/”>marceline</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Sass In the Satin

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I’m not often caught by surprise, used to be common til I

Drowned in men’s lies, and then you appeared before me

Like a cloud across the sky, better keep moving lest you

Get caught by surprise; see this Southern belle as a quest

You need to con, or fall for her completely…wouldn’t

That be fun? Oh geez don’t let my bud catch any of

Your dew, for the heart squeezes tight when it

Considers me and you; berries on the bush, yes

The temptation is one for the ages, whispering

“Live your truth” are the voices of the sages; and

We shall surely dance around this rhythm we

Know; marionettes flail their arms and legs

As we clap for the show; gentle is the touch,

Sweet your very taste, lustful on the vine,

Your hands are full of grace. Throw caution

To the Wind, let your freedom find a trail,

No justification needed when you

Set that final sail. This is but a rhyme,

Don’t be so morose, figure a bag of candy

Is sweeter than your prose, and just as I have you,

You’d surely take flight, as a bird with healed

Wings after a grounded fortnight.

 

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/paloetic/4576171463/”>paloetic</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;