"Love has its own time, its own season, its own reasons for coming and going. You cannot bribe it or coax it into staying. You can only embrace it when it arrives and give it away when it comes to you"

~Kent Newburn

Call My Name

 

Call my name

in whispers caught in your throat

choking past your teeth

almost bared

catching on the broken glass edges of want

Call it sweet and tender

filled with new apple scent

from wooing cloudbursts

to wet bluegrass fields

Call it with tear drenched eyes

on the side of my glistening neck

dripping and auspicious
to loosen the flow

held back by stockades forged in deafness

Call it exposed to me in anger

clenching to your childlike fear

smothered in misunderstanding

charcoaled words silting the sound

blackening the air between us

Call my name in forgiveness

clinging to your heat fevered hopes

and tethered helium dreams

of what will once again be

the stratosphere endlessly awaits the sound

Call it singing my praises

at the entrance of crisp white sheets

arching your back with

ecstatic screams as I envelop you

And then, when nothing more can be said

call my name in darkness

as I am put away

earthbound but rising

as you hear it meet my

omnipresent ears and

echo finally back

into your whispering throat

 ©

M.A.W.

Be like the bird, who

 Pausing in his flight

 On a limb too slight

 Feels it give way beneath him

 Yet sings

 Knowing he has wings.

~Victor Hugo

There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few that will capture your heart.

-Ben Crenshaw

Untitled

She lived as if the entire world

revolved around her moods

each turn met by a calculated counter-turn

every smile a careful balance

between revelation

and secrecy

She loved as if we were

all to blame

as if every tender word left

a wound

visible as a line on her face

and each morning she'd recount them

while we stood

rigid mirrors reflecting her lost youth

She spoke as if speaking

were a cliff and she could fall

and keep falling for miles

before crumbing at the bottom

of the chasm of her making

wrinkled as a raisin

in the harsh light of the sun

She spoke as if she never

learned the words

for forgiveness, love, or sorrow

as if they were foreign tastes

too bitter or sweet

for her sharp tongue

Once, in my weakness

I cried for her to hold me

and her contemptuous eyes

brought the world crashing down

I willed her sing to me

shelter me

save me

but her arms were wooden drum stick

tapping my back

in dispassionate parodies of song

©

Pork Barrel Politics

The Door

And so I looked
towards the door,
my thoughts lingering
like your presence -
shadows of indifference upon the threshold

To exit would be
your finality,
the escape of all I
once held as true;
my depravity the doorknob







The door has always been open,
but until now I have avoided
the coldness, the continual draft
of your existence

The other side beckons to me
with it's decadent hands of denial,
so eagerly awaiting this
staved immaculance

To walk through that door,
to forget,
would be my last act of submission
carried out in your name

So I walked
through that door, and I
left my shroud of naivete
on the hanger nearby
that is cluttered
with other such hypocrisy

© Cindyrella