poetry community – Letters For My Lovers

Fabricated Sorrow

What is it, about being a woman
that drives us, to feel lust
nay, neediness, longing, expectations
of the opposite sex
to WANT, to need, to succumb
to loving us?

It’s like taking the first hit;
wanting every moment
to inevitably feel like the next.
A drug of the heart, a survivalist’s wet dream,
suddenly the nightmare of the other.

I loathe the void I’ve created
within the absence you’ve brought;
the coward who parades around
as a hearty lion, navy suit astounding
the driver of slumber long deceased
brought back to life in a dusty dream.

Nothing is everything,
it all resonates like bass hitting a temple
wishing for change, but unwilling to understand;
the dance slowly dies
as the reality of one love lost
bites the dust, of poetic abstinence.

Heed a lonely cry, in the distance
a single ring on a finger
symbolism of something so untrue
it might as well be dead.

I’ll die too young
to see the fruition of your honesty.

Fishing in Cape Breton

Crisp
are the winds
that brought me to you
along the broken path
by the Ocean’s roar.
Jagged
were the rocks
that dangled beneath.
So close
to losing my footing
and slide
towards my demise.
Dangerous drops
rarely lead
to peaceful waters
and yet,
in all my meanderings
I failed to fall.
Rugged
was my resolve
in the hopes
that I too
could balance
on the fine line
that pushes
one foot
after the other
towards
the unknown.
Unfortunate
are those who strive
to maintain happiness
as a constant
instead of a rare pearl.
A thing
to be held close,
cherished
and observed
in moderation.
Happiness
isn’t a fish
you can catch,
but a fleeting moment.
Just breathe it in
and let it go.
Breathe me in…
And let me go.

Wolf – For W

What will the Wolf say
When he stares the sun in the eyes?
When night becomes day,
Day becomes night,
And hard feelings fossilize into amber?
When Smouldering creativity
Meets twilight inspiration,
And the world fades away…

When I think of you,
I see shadows dancing on the moon
And faerie lights tickling the darkness.
A midsummer’s night’s dream
Created from the meetings of strange minds.
Perfected, time and time again.
One stroke, then another, sacredly
Etching, connecting, correcting,
Before sinking into contemplation.

An eternal carnival in your lair,
My body dies, divides, renews
Becoming one, yet another
With every step of our twisted process.
A mask within a mask,
Inspiration…
A pile of pigment between your fingers,
A pinch of this,
A dab of that;
With the heave of a breast,
Lilith the predator, becomes prey
Caught by a hunter more skilled than herself.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Physical manifestations of primal dreams
Can tell no lies.
So, dig your claws into the fabric of my creation;
Let your hot breath linger,
As your teeth reach for my neck.
And tell me,
My humble predator…
What does it feel like,
When you’re howling at the sun?

A State Of Me

I haven’t felt human in a long time
to the point
where I’ve doubted
having blood running through my veins
A search for meaning
in hard substances
and things devoid of substance
in cold sheets
and soft embraces…
But I’ve discovered myself,
deep down, where no one wants to go
a profound understanding
of the duality
that runs through my veins
It isn’t blood that pumps into my heart
but also Magic…
Things yearned and learned
from Goddesses past,
and mothers of the earth,
creators of life and all things.
Like all humans,
I doubt my humanity,
for what does it mean
to be Human in the first place?

Behold

I just want to be loved.

Never again owned, beaten, caged…
By a man incapable of seeing the gift before him, open-armed.

I am not a concept, a portrait, an expectation.
Break barriers, push boundaries, draw power
Spit it out in the form of glitter and light,
Choke on rainbow unicorn cocks…

That is what I do.
This is who I am.

I am power, fear, excitement,
anguish relieved with the press of a little pink button.

I am whole, indifferent to norms important to scared little boys
who happen to miss mama.

I am not a weight to be suffered.
But a Queen to be held high,
Coveted…
Not a toy for the small-minded and unsure,
Cowards with their tails between their legs.

I’m the alpha bitch!

My legs open only for the worthy,
Savour…
With the tip of your tongue.
The sacred nectar,
Source of eternal power within.

I am immutable strength.

Never again owned, beaten, caged…

Winter Comings

Rituals
Of stories and studies
Worship
Soft bodies in hard positions
Feasts
Of the flesh and fortune
Celebrate
Sacred kinships and moons
Discoveries
Of gentle love and tighter hands
Cuddle
Red cheeks and dripping mascara
Dances
Of sex witches in frozen gardens

Kronos Embraces

Time. Irrelevant.
Conventions. Irreverent.
A perfect longing,
Slow and steady belonging
To a world one cannot place.
Occult creations,
Reincarnating reflections,
Sweetly coveting passion.
Succubus in plain sight.
Steadily arousing genitalia
Mirrors of moisture,
Soaking through layers
Of existence.
Back up against the wall.
Bearing all.

!Gasp!

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