oOo

she
turns to
dust between

silken
fingers then
back together again

by
that velvet
voice in her

ear.

Dearest Diary:

It kind of hurts, but not enough to stop.
My flesh wants this, the knowing slit,
the raindrop of blood,its slow descent down my thigh.
So hard to control myself once I feel the first
trickle. And my rainsilver razor with her open
mouth: "again, somemore...just a little ".

Yeah, it kind of hurts, in an exquisite way.
My lips tremble, a tear falls from my eye like a fraternal
twin to the tear running down my thigh. I'm already
plotting my next time.

me

ThreeWords

Tip-Toe Here, Babe

His angst-filled tip-toe manifesto
Has rendered me to tears.
Makes me want to conquer all his fears.
With our souls laid out: temporary and

bare, we must love each other hairbreath slow.

I'm a heretic when in love, with an
acute separation of power and need -
give me just the right word and

I'll water your emotional seed.

Love me
while I'm loving you
Taste me
tip-toe inside my history

and I'll treat your theory as a life-long discovery.


Cynthia

Ode to a Melancholy Lover

I want to light into your beauty
and swallow the pain, forever
present in your veiled eyes

Cynthia

6WSaturday II

Ache of memory haunts my dreams.

6WShttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

6WSaturday I

A quiet girl on timid feet.

Epiphany

The dew
Of old devotions.*

Still lingers in my heart
yet, I know I must depart.

I walk upon the grass of yesterdays,
Loathe to change my worn-thin ways.

Today, I vow to close the old refrain
For I will open my heart, re-frame my brain.

Within this day of vast possibilities
My life anew, I shall grasp the golden keys.

Cynthia

.......
*Italics: Wallace Stevens.

This poem is written in response to living a rut-free life!