a thought

I have learned a lot about what love is and what I think it is and others think it is. Love is good 100%. It’s always there. It gives comfort and joy and it’s sorrows are all wrapped up in beautiful memories. Lust now that is something too many confuse with love an easy way to tell the difference is that Lust wants things fast fast fast but Love is willing to wait.

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Muse

A leaf with no tree blown here to the feet of me the color of danger of blood a Sugar Maple in autumn.

Gifts from above.

Or beyond.

The reach of my hand the knowledge in my head the answers to questions I dare not ask.

Distance is nothing and everything for most days it is as though it is no greater than two worn leather club chairs before a banked fire separated by an end table holding a tumbler of rum and coke and a tall glass of mint tea.

It is glancing over top of a magazine and catching you glancing at me this curiosity.

I shake my head to knock the train of thought from its tracks, it does not always work.  I eye aye – Oi  snap out of it.

A dialogue of gentle progression with scintillating moments where I forget and give voice to outrageous thoughts then run away as though I were 8 and fearing the consequences of having done something just a tad naughty.

I come back.

Always do.

In these moments of soundless whispers sparks flare and my mind illuminates and the torch reveals the treasure and beauty, the garbage and grime, the skeleton, the butterflies and little balls of twine. 

From this place inside my soul I gather the bits closest to me I put them on paper for all to see but the spark it sputters the bright light goes out and I am left in the darkness stumbling about.

Some days are magic while others drone on they drone when I miss you because you are gone.

I cannot keep such an ephemeral thing as the idea of a butterfly floating on wings whipping up hurricanes of ideas in my mind.

Set them free.

Fuck yeah.

 

 

Maybe

I fall in love with impossible dreams.  They are infinite and wonderful and all about me.  Or maybe you.  They are dreams of the day and and are fantasy fluff having nothing more than plot of two people loving each other, but that’s not life is it?  That’s not real.  So perhaps it is best that I wake up and stop dreaming.

Buried Treasure

Everyday I wake up my first thought is of you.

You came  into my life like high tide rushing in pulled me out into deep waters where I am still learning how to swim.

There is not a part of me that you have not touched you surround me with pleasure you drown me in pain.

You changed me with your charming ways your strange love and desires.  You built me up you tore me down and still for you, I’d walk through fire.

This love you say it cannot be and so I let you go and you come back to me.

How can I move forward how can I forget how can I erase your name, your voice your face when I close my eyes and all I see is you?

But floating here in the warmth of your embrace I am not lost I am at peace.

I shall wait for whatever the fates decide will be if that is being swept away or being blessed with your eternal company.

This love will always be for you, for me.

Fête

The cucumber sandwiches  crunch

Petit fours dipped in exotic colors, topped with crystallized violets melt

Muscato di Asti tickles

Strawberries burst

Frozen grapes quench

Tidbits of filet mignon wrapped in bacon tempt

Asparagus snaps

Pineapple rings refresh

Peaches they drip and stick

Raspberries give sweet bite

Cubes of Gouda and Swiss give a kick

Brie baked with cranberries spread on water crackers delights

Hearts of palm are a forbidden sin

Artichoke and spinach in creamy relief conquer

A glass of unoaked Chardonnay quenches

Tapas of pollo con pasta de ajo inspire

Tiramisu so decadent inspires

A demitasse cappuccino completes

 

And What Not

Little corners of space

Ticking from an analog clock

Hot cocoa and marshmallows

The scent of parfum notes of jasmine and patchouli

The glint of sun off ginger hair

Cold wind scraping skin on faces turned into collars

Rainfall in the sunshine

Thunder during a snow storm

The joy of lifted spirits when snowfall stays

Dog hair on a black wool driving coat

Fog hanging low across a cornfield

The warm splash of tears as they crash on cheeks

Silence as the breath squeezes from lungs

And the gasp of breath as you break the surface

Life filling lungs making buoyant bodies hope.