Through subtle looks of longing I hold on to you.
Through delicate movements, I approach you in measured passion.
The tones of you are like vast fields of fuchsia flowers
Accented with white gardenias.
On lush green pastures heaven’s rain falls in ultramarine blue.
The balance of our intimacy is a precise ballet,
With beautiful silk ribbons and lace embroidery;
The silhouette of your neck captures the essence of your femininity.
Chandelier earrings compliment your dress like large raindrops
That fall gracefully over the tall lights of New York City.
I fall; I fall without inhibitions, releasing all my love to you, willingly.
I fall without fear, because I know the depths of you will save me.
In your immersion, the waves of you wash over me.
I give to you every part of me, yet I am not empty,
For it is your love that …
Tag: Writing
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Shattered innocence becomes the blood of vengeance.
Ruthless utterances long to escape the long held silence.
The days of mercy wane for hidden monsters;
The infliction of pain at their hands, will never be forgotten.
They will stand in the congregation of their victims,
And give an accounting.
Gleeful hearts will savor the hour of their sentencing;
Justice will be immediate; there will be no pardon.
Pleas for leniency will fall on deaf ears,
Because of the walls that wept, the screams, the torment,
And the children’s tears. -
On that night she said to me, if it should come for me, remember me, not through an overthought eulogy, or even your last moments with me, but instead, me kissing you, and you holding me tightly, without fear, right before our transcendence of ecstasy; and in my grave concern, I made several inquiries as to what could ever take her away from me, and her only words were, promise me. But I cried incessantly, and in my weeping, she comforted me, touching me warmly, as her hair fell and brushed against me; and I held her, and kissed her, and with her body in my embrace, I talked to her lovingly, and said, baby, whatever it may be that comes for you, will also have to come for me.
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Fall trees finally shed all of their leaves,
Vastly displaying their unabashed nakedness;
What was once a settling rustling, now marks a strange silence.
Branches move to and fro as if they were marionettes;
The winds blow and cause them to dance,
Like a ballerina adorned with a diamond tiara, in beautiful snowfall,
Under a midwinter’s trance.
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If I could, I would catch your tears in the wind
and hold them, and make your pain my pain,
willingly accepting your burdens;
And in my love for you, I will embrace them,
hoping in time the strength of my spirit will erase them;
But if all else fails, I will forever carry them,
kissing and holding you tearfully
thankful to see you smile again;
And at my end, I will be lifted up into the heavens,
and the deep scarring of my heart
will finally mend. -
Tears of torment drench heavy curtains.
The sorrowful wail to release the pain and stem the damage.
Agony is devastating, with no ending,
and is not remembered in its origins;
the stumbling of the listless and incoherent whispers,
pierce the stagnant silence at 4 AM.
The soul is stained with the dark dye of pain;
in a long drought of happiness, they pray for rain.
Too often, their signatures are incomplete letters
on white paper, soaked with bloodstains.
Epitaphs of the heart are written,
then rewritten, again and again.
Darkness refuses to leave;
With constant tightness of the chest
and in labored breaths, they breathe.
There is no understanding after abandonment —
so for themselves they grieve.
Desolation shatters utterly, leading to unceasing tears
that fall on worn rosaries.
Old men with grey beards
and elderly women with long silver hair,
weep for the young
who lie in boxes motionless,
in silent beauty.
Words of the anguished are spoken,
hoping that the angels will hear them.
Still, they pray for solace,
and a new awakening. -
I think about you and I —
But he holds your heart,
So in my desire for you, I fantasize.
In unfettered pleasure
And beautiful intimacy,
We transcended space and time.
Between off white and purple silks,
Our connection was divine.
I kissed you passionately,
While the stars wrote
Our story in the skies;
I pleased you unselfishly
looking intently into your eyes.
I gave of myself uninhibitedly,
In loving vulnerability;
It was tears of joy I cried.
Through sensual whispers
I confessed that I was yours,
and that you were mine.
You were my life;
You were my love,
Leaving all else behind.
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The darkness encroaches and renders listless.
After the tears — come the desolate silence,
The shattering of the once vibrant soul,
And the scattered remnants. -
Beneath the facade, lies the darkness
that bubbles near the surface.
It hides behind gentle gestures
and overtures of kindness.
The potency of its viciousness
is well concealed in subtleness.
The metastasis of the heart and soul
is the unsightliness of its unfettered sickness.
If aware, one must be careful around it.
Only the discerning eye can see it.
Unveiled, it is horrific in its hideousness.
Released, it is vile in its actions,
and poisonous in its utterances.
Parasitical, it eventually renders its host —
a gaunt, discolored husk of flesh.
Men and women with grey hair
that know of its ills over the years,
make gestures with index fingers over lips,
lest the darkness hears;
the recollection of their time is when
the mercilessness of men — caused famine,
starvation, mass death, destruction,
and the cold winter wailing
of the children’s tears. -
3 Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders,
4 Saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? See thou to that.5 And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.
6 And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not lawful for us to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood.
7 And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter’s field, to bury strangers in.
8 Wherefore that field was called, The field of blood, unto this day.
Matthew 27: 3 – 8 KJV
18 Now this man purchased a field with the reward of iniquity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out.
19 And it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem; insomuch as that field is called in their proper tongue, Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood.
Acts 1: 18 – 19 KJV
Intimate Compositions 