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Alone, all we can count on.

 

Alone, what we make happen.

 

Alone, a place to hide.

 

Alone, always all the time.

 

Alone, is there anyone else?

 

Is there?

 

 

Alone, the safe escape.

 

Alone, the ultimate destination. 

 

Alone, all we have in the end. 

 

Alone, is there anything else?

 

There’s only one person in the room.

 

Or is there?

 

Is there?

She was a perfect jewel, an absolute gem . . . lovely, refined, clever, funny, noble and kind.  She possessed beauty and charm, intellect and wit, class and grace.  You might say, one of a kind.  Everyone knew she was extraordinary.

 

Heaven knows what had happened to her.  She had been pursuing her dream.  Living a simple life, ever the optimist.  She knew what she wanted and was going for it. Organized and focused, she had a mission.  She was an artist and she would succeed in that or starve trying.

 

He waltzed into her life rather like some dysfunctional Gene Kelly movie.  That she had fallen in love and fallen hard was clear.  She had thought to marry him.  They two were so akin as to seem the halves of a whole.  She was his healing.  He related so completely with her.  They were meant to be together . . . forever.

 

He was a haunted man . . . driven and hounded by demons.  Still there was that about him, a potential.  Should he ever be rid of the ghosts, should he ever be able to stay in a place, she would be his haven.  She knew it as easily as she drew breath.  His distance due to necessity, not desire.  When he left he had assured her their separation was temporary.  They would be together again and soon.

 

She keeps knocking at a door to which she once held a key.  She doesn’t understand he has changed the lock, confused each time it is closed to her.  The physical distance now merely a reflection of the emotional distance that was growing like a weed crowding out her heart.

 

Now she’s alone, struggling through each day.  Living for the thrill of contact, any contact from him.  They were not done.  They couldn’t be done . . . she was still in love with him.

 

 

Shiny

The light that captivates me

Ensnaring the mind of me

A gentle touch

 

Glowing

The aura that embraces me

Holding the heart of me

A radiant warmth

 

Here I find

A tranquil place

Here I live

Happy

 

Darkest night

Holds us

As one another

We hold

 

Soft touches

Gentle stroking

Our connection

Buried deep within

Our passion 

 

Tempo rising

Sweat beading

Passion raw

Embrace the spirit

Completion 

 

We heave together

Joined through desire

 

Overwhelming

As obsession grips

 

My heart races

As I rise to meet you

Again and again

Blending heart and soul 

 

Bodies mated

Whispers calling

Silence beckons

Midnight’s stolen

 

 

What to say, what to write, what to do today

 

This way, not that way, then just plain no way

 

Say this way, write that way, no plain way . . . today

 

 

Obligations, reservations, simply time to go

 

Imagination, infatuation, writing ala mode.

 

Aggravations, mental masturbation, WTF, you know?

 

 

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April 2009
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