YearnShe wants to dance with him…curling hips in primal promise sway.She wants to lay with him…trace gentleness on leisured sheets of lightShe wants to rage with him…puffing chests in fervent brash opinion.She wants to play with him…frisking fun and silly crunching banter.She wants to muse with him…on justice rare, life's circles, cracks and lines.She wants to stay with him…absorb his truth, his earnestness and laughter.She wants to love with him…possessive fragile trembling silk enclose.She wants to reach for him…and find out what it is,that makes him cry.
FranticI can still smell the city.Glorious blooms, carpet of colour.The flower market…and the morning. You bought me tiny yellow buds.Chocolate and pistachio nuts for breakfast.Your warm hands. Artist's fingers entwined.An outdoor table.Strong coffee.Heads bowed, almost touching.Hushed whispers,laughter in harmony.I thought I knew you from a time before my lifeIt could have been any city in the world.A writer's description.Clear blue diamond sky.And nowI miss your fire.Possibility still bubbling under my skin.Endless yearning Endless looking for youGlancingleft, rightsometimes frantic!
YieldYou've got her where you want her...Lunatic, can't sleep, can't eat, head spinning,GrittyYou take her where you want to...Erratic, dark deep, cold weep, mind numbing,ScourgeYou give her when you want to...Enigmatic, flesh stroke, thought provoke, soul searing,RadiantYou leave her how you want to…Dramatic, heart torn, rage, mourn, death quieteningSilenceYou have her when you want her…Yet she's hanging around the edges of yourpeace of mind.
CaptiveOh but to have you again...Crush you to my heartSoak up the spill of your painShroud you in quietnessThrum you with joyDrown in the muddleScream in the voidRelinquish you with abandonAnd cry myself to sleepAgain...you have to...but oh…
RipplesRIPPLESNot a ripple.Jump as high as the sky.Fall down deep where,the water has no soundSkim across the surface,play, bounce.The surface is flat.There are no ripples.The sun shines brightly here.I do not have to worry aboutthe dark depth, the weeds.I do not have to worry abouttasting the barren shore.This is where I belong.In the middle.It is smooth here.No ripples.By Elle Evans
Sta.sh
