Lion’s Den

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Lightning bolt skies

Thunder percussion when your hips thrust into mine

Fear and pleasure has since filled my mind

I wish I gave it all away to you

I wish you weren’t so distant too

I wish I could read your mind

I wish it wasn’t constantly on mine

My fingers explored the different textures of your hair, curly, coils, where my fingers glided through, it isn’t fair

How I traced the landscape of your body strong, skin soft, kissing all of your scars

That level of intimacy, the pleasure I know in my heart, I have no right to feel.

The taste of you has yet to drift from my lips

And the image of you, can’t seem to escape me

The bass of the music drowns out all the words I wanted to say, and all that remained was foolish nervousness and a girl in dismay

I got lost in time, it’s now midday

Oh I wonder, what would have been your response, if I said what it was I really wanted to say, asked you to stay?

The reality is, that you didn’t stay and you don’t respond when I ask, if you’re okay

And I shouldn’t expect you to give more than you’re willing to, for those reasons are yours and yours alone.

All I know is that I want to occupy that space again.

I want to get lost in it, I want to feel you all around. I want my world to be turned upside down.

Somewhere deep in your lion’s den, where I can take all of you, every particle, every piece and feel you bring light into me.

wise man

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He closed his eyes & let go of his hatred.

He closed his mouth & listened to the quiet world, that surrounded him.

He opened his heart & took off his shoes.

That day, he walked the Earth with bare feet.

He stared upon the sky & earth, realizing that he & it were one.

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I’m slowly forgetting the sound of your voice, the curve of your lips. I’m slowly forgetting the feeling of your arm hair brushing just slightly against mine. And with it, all these small inconsequential memories. I’m slowly losing interest in everything. I don’t listen really, I don’t listen to anything or anyone. Nothing excites me anymore, no small sparks of passion to keep me on my feet throughout the day. I don’t even really enjoy music either, not like I once did. The sound of it leaves me feeling, a tad bit numb. All I can do is write words, words that when formed together aren’t even good enough to be typed onto a blank page. But that’s all that’s left, a vacant space, a hole. I often wonder why it has come to this. It’s no one’s fault, but my own really..Why did I allow myself to fall in? Why must all beautiful things end in tragedy? Why must they end at all? For what is a writer without beauty? For what is a poet without tragedy?

For a poet without a muse, no longer has a reason to write.

But write they must.

And I will,

even if it means, no longer writing for you.

The story of the sun

Once upon a time, there lived a star. She was obsessed with the idea of love, so she would watched as all the other stars shot across the galaxy to meet one another in unity… But because she was too fearful to give her heart away, too afraid to join all the other shooting stars, she waited and waited, until she grew older. So much older, that all she began to attract were cold, small, lifeless rocks. She unknowingly began to warm all the rocks nearby with all the things she imagined love to be like. These rocks would soon form an orbit, all rotating around her light. But her poor heart, she kept it in a jar protected by a ring of fire. Far from harm, but also so far away from love. And this is the story of the sun and how our planets were formed.