You are beautiful.
I see you in my mind when I can’t touch you,
I ache at the thought of your hands,
Your shoulders,
I am lost in thoughts when I shouldn’t be,
The curve,
The swell of your behind,
I am lost,
The wetness of your mouth,
I am breathless,
The thick firmness of your thighs,
I am captivated by an image I can’t touch,
Wanting so much to feel, taste, kiss the things I see,
But alas,
Were it not just a memory.
Tag: memory
The Space Between
Do you get lost sometimes
In the wondering,
If things had gone differently?
If perhaps you and I hadn’t,
Ended?
I do.
But then again I sometimes go back further,
And wonder what if,
We had never been.
–And I wouldn’t want that for the world!
In the time we were ‘us’
I became,
A grown woman,
Found my first real love,
My first real heartbreak,
Became stronger,
Became bolder,
Learned love wasn’t as clear and cut,
As a Hallmark,
I learned love could grow,
Could evolve,
Shift, morph,
Transcend time and space,
Love like ours does that,
Love like ours has its own language,
Love like ours is intangible,
yet it touches every nerve ending,
Pleasure and pain,
Love like ours stays with us,
No matter what we do,
Others might interpret this as guardian seraphim work,
But from what I feel I know it’s you,
We are connected,
No matter the space between,
From our fingers once intertwined,
I am still yours,
As you are mine.
Imagined Words
When I was young
I used the write stories and poetry
In my head.
Too quick for pen and paper
The stories unfolded before my mind’s eye,
Like drops of rain I could try
To catch them,
But surely I would miss too many to try,
I would lie in bed
With words my dreams,
With words the sheep I would count,
But surely with such tales on play
There was no way rest I would take
I would imagine the words
Being spoken from my mouth,
The thought of the sound of my own voice,
Catching and releasing the words from my lips,
And yet not a noise would be made.
When I was young
I was a dreamer,
An artist,
A dream artist,
Painting mental pictures
Of the imagined works
of this poetess.
Only a Beloved Could
Under a full moon
Last night
I dreamt of you,
I saw your face
As clear as daylight,
As real as memory can illustrate,
And in your eyes
I know you knew how I felt
When you looked at me,
Though I’m not quite sure what that was
Other than love,
And I suppose it was a gift
To see you in slumber so well,
I swear I heard your voice,
Maybe it was a message from you,
Letting me know
I wouldn’t be able to know of your being
For a time,
As has always been with us,
I will write my pieces,
And hope you still see what I have for you,
And I will continue to love and wish you well,
Praying to the infinite universe you are cared for well,
That my well meaning hands, which wish to tend to you,
Will be vicariously taken up by others,
And that you too will love and care for yourself,
The way only a beloved could
Tall Grass
My dream that never came
Was always us in tall grass,
Finding self and each other
By the river,
Under stars, “cowboy take me away”
And making everything alright,
For you, for me,
And one last kiss
that is never enough,
I’m intoxicated still by orange-blossom memory,
What is now a web-like fantasy,
Where I can’t tell where you end and I begin,
Or what was real or what I just
Imagined,
But where it left off,
That in my mind I fill in:
We go out walking,
After midnight
And catch falling stars
And find each other’s ends,
In the tall grass
Lunar Memory
She of Letters 