She loved him more than she could think
As their shadows grew
Eyes closed, she traces an outline around the silhouette, then
Her mouth
As far apart as they fall, Fly, fall
With the light at their backs
They stay cast overlapped
Hands clasped in illusion
As long as the sun

The Opening Taste

When i ran out of words, I listened to this.

She dreams, she dreams
I dream

How easily they flow
Familiar secrets over her
Tongue
The taste of his skin
On hers
Always meeting this way, aren’t we?
My love
Clever ghosts, denying their
Deaths
Her hips still rising, despite
His hands on her
Throat
Maybe because of them
Again, please, again
How, my love, we come undone

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

-Anaïs Nin

The truth isn’t kind. The truth isn’t interested in whether you feel comfortable or safe; whether you have appearances to keep up. The truth is stark, jagged, familiar, hot, disgusting, relieving, cold, deep and and and...rarely kind ( Read more... )

Swaying alone, or with a ghost
How can you tell?
When fingers entwine with the familiar warmth of those unseen
Floor creaking with the weight of
You? A dream? The wind?

Just a word or two, slipping into each other ( Read more... )

Her glass is empty, last taste still on
Her lips, like him,
Still on her tongue
Her breath catches while her throat burns with whiskey memories
Hand to breast, feel for the skips
Lingering where his prints are fading
Are we fading? She whispers it aloud
Hmmmm, lips together, hinted smile
Fills her glass
Again

Can't help but look
Worry
Christ, what does that say
About me
Never more than a breath away
Never more than a heartbeat
Never less
Than one sky
Trying to make things easier
Has always cut deeper
Even now
Tonight the sky is larger than
I remember