Friday, September 4, 2009

More Old Poetry 12-10-04

In my dreams

He comes to me like a thief

In the night

Touching me with heavy hands

And soft words

Polishing my porcelain skin

Making me Shine

I still don't understand


Sultry and wistful

Sensual and salacious

Loaded and forbidden

If he only knew...

Under Him

My Life could be over

No matter how hard I try

I can't cleanse him from my mind

Old Poetry Rediscovered 12-29-04


across the miles
there's a man
whose face I keep in frames
but only in my mind
hidden where I have
all the gifts I thought of giving
and the words
I never could choke out

I've never touched him
but he makes me feel
like an awkward child
in perpetual adolescence
our minds connect
and we are amplified
in color
while the rest are in
black and white

I've never been so scared
as I wondered
if he was silently
watching me
through a sea of faces
in a place far from home
And yes, I want to go with him
but the promise of pleasure
doubles the price of pain
you leave at Home

we are like stunted seeds
born without a chance
guaranteed to blossom
in the right garden
that we do not dare explore