having the Dickens of a time
with chipped nail polish
of a night in
crazed expectation
Love
#SoCS – How Now?
Pulling
Pushing
Manipulating me and yet you seem to sit centered
Unmoving
Smiling
With your magnifying glass like a student of ant life
Studying
Probing
My mind for ways to tease and torture while I’m
Running
Avoiding
Your sunbeam prism ray
Scorching
Searching
For the best way to leave me
Pleading
Pleasing
Or trying my best to because you bring out the
Begging
Simpering
Bitch in me with your
Pushing
Pulling
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you by me, here: http://lindaghill.com/2015/10/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1015/ Check it out!
romance
romance comes
in so many forms
for some brightly lit in the sun, water falls and picnics
gah
what of that? sickly sweet and taffy cream ant infested bologna!
romance is this my love:
wine as red as blood
candle wax dripping upon skin
and pain
pain as sharp as the knife which i use
to carve your lust for me into your chest
as piercing as my body into yours – the physicality of romance
can you feel it?
can you feel the torture that i endure upon days
and nights of not knowing where you are
what you are doing and with whom?
romance is a fistful of angel hair and fingernail clippings
romance is a mindfull of possession and need
i hand it to you on a plate of flesh and bone
for you know as well as i
romance kills
doesn’t it my love?
gently
touches my heart
like music
breathes in my soul
your love is
my saving grace
Unsightly sights
We’re closed for the night
all tucked in just you ‘n’ me
alone at last;
you with your tie and your shiny hair
and me in uncomfortable stockings
In the dark, with the lights off
who cares if they knock on the glass doors
we have nothing left to sell
except what we sell ourselves;
heated breath, exchanged, no receipts
Can they see us shedding the clothes
of mannequins? haha is that what they think?
Thru the window my skin is pale and if
I stand still enough perhaps
my porcelain skin will look to their eyes
innocent window dressing
You feel my radiant lust upon your chest
that I care not what they think
as I untie your tie and drop your drawers
and then the window dresser appears to be
doing the unspeakable with his porcelain companion
at closing time.
I love you
I should have said, I love you in the purest of ways. That I cared deeply for you; that I expected nothing from you than what you were willing to give freely.
Your friendship.
But as I lay in your arms, the glow of our lovemaking surrounding us like an aura of blush and holy water beneath the sheets, my transgressive whisper caused a hitch in your breath and I knew I had uttered our sentence. Simple as it was and true as I felt it echo from you as well, I should have explained.
I want you to know that that morning has never left me. From your 2am call, I want you now, until we spoke and laughed on the phone after you returned home – every second, every hour in between, has burned in my mind.
Young Angel.
I will never leave you. You know I am with you even now. What we share is eternal. As pure as the I love you I meant to say.
Achtung Baby (SoCS & JusJoJan)
The stage is set, the players, all fifteen of them, stand in the wings, waiting to go on. All are naked; some are bold, most are nervous. Among them, Armand is one of the youngest at twenty-one tender years of age. As he follows a woman of forty out onto the platform, he wills his body into submission, not wishing to show more of himself than he must. He wishes briefly that he had cut his hair so as not to be as conspicuous. He is aware of the soft strands brushing against his buttocks as he takes stage left.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Notes in hand, textbooks tucked under her seat, Zelda sits in the audience among one hundred and fifty of her colleagues. Pen poised, her eyes drift over the bodies on stage, coming to rest upon the lithe, shy man at stage left. He scans the front row not lifting his gaze, probably lest he realizes just how many eyes are upon he and his fellow subjects. It never seems to matter to them that their audience is comprised of physicians whose interest in them is entirely clinical. It was, for Zelda, until today.
She shifts to the edge of her seat, staring at him. Willing him to look up to her fifth row seat. She has fallen in love, for as much good as it will do. Contact between physician and subject in this particular venue is forbidden. Getting backstage would be more difficult than breaching security at a rock concert.
Ignoring the rest of the class she stares only at him. When it is his turn to step forward she gasps involuntarily.
He looks up at her and a faint smile crosses his lips.
Perhaps in the next lifetime.
This post is part of SoCS. The prompt today is Scene/seen. Please join in! http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-january-3115/
badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions
And… AND… JusJoJan!! http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/20/jusjojan-day-21-30-prompt/
socs – mudai (untitled)
you throw open the doors
thrust out your chest
and bare your scars
like trophies of a life
indescribably regretful
you hand me the glass
a rough shard to magnify
the edges of your wounds
and you say
“examine
but don’t
judge…”
and all i want
is to pick out the flecks
of pain
like sand, never
letting
you
heal
your words are your pearls
beautiful
your voice screams your guilt
heaviest of metals
and all i want
is to bow to your agony
let me sew up your gashes
where your art escapes
and bleeds out your passion
…but no
if you stop bleeding
i’ll die.
badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions
Find Stream of Consciousness Saturday here, and join in: http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/16/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-january-1715/
riptide
mind awash with what might have been
what will be
what might be
is all
ripped
tied
and ruined
‘f
‘f you gaze at the stars’ cosmic patterns
‘f you hear the crash of the waves from the other side of the sea
‘f you sing a melody into the air tonight, will you hear the sound of my voice
‘f i sing in cosmic harmony?
Linda G. Hill 