A Collection of Thoughts 2

Small pieces...

HER LOVE SO MAGNIFICENTLY RARE
LIGHTNING CAUGHT IN A WINE GLASS
AS UNTAMED AS THE FLAME, WILD WARMING SPARKS
SHE THE OCEAN, THE RIVERS, WATERFALLS, WOODLAND STREAMS
STRETCHING, CASCADING, EVER-FLOWING WATERS
HER LOVE A SHIMMERING PALACE IN THE CLOUDS
WHERE NO FROSTED MOUNTAIN PEAKS HAVE DARED TO REACH
AND I AM THE EXPLORER, THE ADVENTURER, THE FEARLESS SEEKER
ADORNED IN NOTHING BUT A MANGLED SHIRT AND CANE
NOT THE SHINING KNIGHT WHO SLAYS TREASURE HOARDING DRAGONS
ONLY A MUSEUM SHELTERING IRREPLACEABLE ANTIQUES
LOOKING, SEARCHING, TRAVELING THE WORLD
FOR THE GREATEST MASTERPIECE OF THEM ALL

(Catching A Dream With Bare Hands)

~

YOU'RE MY NAUGHTY
LITTLE SECRET
I KEEP TUCKED
BETWEEN THESE THIGHS
EVERY...
SINGLE...
NIGHT

~

WET CONCRETE PULSATES BENEATH UNBALANCED FOOTFALLS
BODIES IN THE STREETS LAUGHING, DANCING, SHOTS OF LIQUID FIRE
LAMPLIGHT CARESSING TANGLED SILOUETTES, SECRET ALLEYWAY SHADOW GRINDS
THIGHS PARTED, RAPTUROUS MOANS MUFFLED BY A LONG THROB OF SLOW BLOWN JAZZ
DISFIGURED MASQUERADE MASKS, BLOOD AND BONES, DRIPPING BURLESQUE, THAT VOODOO
BEAUTIES AND BEASTS JOINING THE SPINNING MOONLIT FREAKSHOW
IMPRISONED BY THAT SINGLE LAZY BEAD OF SWEAT, TRICKLING LOW IN THE HEAT
PLAY THREATENING THE CHILL, WE ARE ALL THAT THUMPS IN THE NIGHT

~

ALL SHE HAD EVER WANTED WAS TO FEEL SAFE FINGERS WEAVE
THROUGH HERS. TO BEGIN HER MORNINGS WITH A SIGH AS
FEATHERY LIPS KISS HER AWAKE. TO STAY HOME,
HELD CLOSE, HELD TIGHT, WITH ONLY THE SOUND
OF ANOTHER HEART BEATING IN TUNE WITH HERS.
SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE
CHERISHED, FOR THE GENTLEST OF TOUCHES TO BRUSH AWAY
HER TEARS, THE STRONGEST OF HER FEARS. TO BE PULLED INTO ARMS
THAT WILL NEVER LET HER GO. TO NOT FEEL LIKE NOTHING,
BUT SOMETHING, MAYBE EVEN EVERYTHING TO SOMEONE
WHO SEES HER. WHO IN A GLANCE KNOWS HER WORTH.

(Just Love Her)

~

THERE IS NOTHING
QUITE LIKE
KISSING YOUR
SMILE

~

THERE WERE THREE MEMORIES THAT SHE HAD KEPT. THAT WASHED
THIN, FADED BUFFALO BILLS JERSEY HE HAD PRIZED SO MUCH THAT SHE
HAD LOVINGLY LABORED OVER EACH BLUE STITCH, STITCHES THAT HELD
MORE THAN THAT OLD SHIRT TOGETHER. THE GUITAR, HIS BELOVED
GUITAR, ONE HE USED TO STRUM WITH THICK, CALLOUSED FINGERS
WHILE HUMMING A COUNTRY SONG AGAINST HER CHEEK. NOW
SITTING UNTOUCHED IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM, MISSING A
STRING HE NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO REPLACE. AND THEN THAT PAIR
OF LEATHER WORK BOOTS HE CLAIMED WERE MADE JUST FOR HIM. THE TOE
OF ONE BOOT WORN DOWN TO THE EXPOSED STEEL. THE OTHER
LACKING A SHOELACE LOOP FROM WHEN A HEARTBROKEN DOG FIRST
REALIZED HE IS GONE. THOSE BEAT UP BOOTS SHE STORES IN A BOX AT
THE TOP OF HER CLOSEST, OCCASIONALLY OPENS TO SCENTS OF THEIR
FARM, A HOME THAT NOT ONLY HE HAD LEFT BEHIND. THESE LITTLE
PIECES OF HIM... PIECES OF HIM FOREVER LINKED TO HER. LITTLE
PIECES THAT STILL BRINGS TEARS TO HER EYES BECAUSE LITTLE PIECES
ARE ALL THAT REMAINS OF THE MAN, OF THE MAN WHO LOVED HER.

(Boots)

~

YOU ARE
THE ONLY ONE
I CALL...
"MINE"

~

WE DON'T HAVE TO MISS
THE OTHER...

THE DOOR IS OPEN
AND THE LIGHT IS STILL ON...

~

THERE WAS A TIME...
WHEN THE SEEPING CRACKS OF YOUR EVERY WOUND
WERE FRACTURES I HAD SO LONGED TO SOOTHE,
TO COMFORT WITH THE TENDERNESS OF CHERISHING FINGERTIPS.
WHEN EACH BREATH THAT HAD EASED FROM YOUR TREMBLING LIPS
WAS WORSHIPPED AS A BLESSING, AS ONE MORE SECOND OF YOU,
OF YOUR TIMELESS WARMTH BLANKETING COLDLY TICKING MINUTES.
WHEN I HAD ONCE BEEN A SMIDGEN OF A MORTAL WHO HAD
SLIPPED, STUMBLED, AND HAD WILDLY PLUMMETED INTO YOU.
WHEN UNLEASHED DEVOTION WAS GIVEN A SAMPLE OF THE PUREST,
PASSION-LACED IMMORTALITY TANGLED WITHIN YOUR ARMS.
SO UTTERLY BEAUTIFUL... UNCHANGED BEFORE MY EYES.
IN THOSE RADIANT DAYS WHEN YOU WERE OF ME, AS I WAS OF YOU.
THERE WAS A TIME...
AND THAT TIME HAS YET TO PASS.

Reviews

[Jibey]

A delightful platter of pleasures... intense, passionate, sad, heart-breaking, hopeful, capturing the very essence of love. I loved the idea of the museum sheltering irreplaceable antiques...the sheer beauty of experience and the endless search fore more...

[Beautiful Intentions]

Thank you so much, Jibs... There are so many of these small pieces... Pages after pages. Endless is the word.:) So glad that you enjoyed them. Means so much to me.

[Mitch]

I've been toying with a stream of consciousness idea for a poetry piece; after reading this I'm glad to say the idea works. There is a subtle through-line from beat to beat, but each is its own. I'm a fan.

[Beautiful Intentions]

Thank you so much for subscribing.:) For being a valued fan, Mitch. If and when you do write a stream of consciousness piece please do share. Would love to read it. And also thank you for your wonderful review!

[genocide]

so you're saying this woman is a vision of beatuy

[Beautiful Intentions]

Yes... Imagine all things beautiful, all things warm and encompassing, when your feet just barely touch down because you walk about on a untouchable high, and she is all these things... All things to make one smile, to take ones breath away... Sigh.. I think your review inspired me.:) Thank you, my wonderful friend!