December 2011
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.” —Amy Lowell
that cannot help but peek through
the clouds in my heart.” —Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
November 2011
You were born of darkened ash
collecting sunbeams in your eyes
stolen from the desperate surrounding sand
begging to shine and glisten without you
But when the wind soon swept
the blackened cinders that bred you
I was there to be encased
by the blue glow of your gaze
I inched closer and closer
yearning to be enchanted by your touch
and soon we were together
laying and tangled in love
Never did you look away
when crimson blood dribbled from the belly of prey
Or when, from my chest, crimson blood did spray
where the claws of lustful beasts inevitably made their way
And in the nights, when the moon was orange and the sky was clear
You kissed all of my wounds and nibbled on my ear
and in the green spring we slept on a mountain tiering over the seaThis was our life, we had killed all our fears
On the first summer morning, after many nightmares
I awoke to a smell of burning
while new trade winds blew through my hair
My eyes opened to a sun blinding and searing my skin bare
You were sleeping right beside me,
and to caress your arm I dared
But as I reached out to touch
my only terror came as one
your body crumpled to dust
as new winds swept you under the sun
So I ran to the cliff and screamed at the air
“What have I done? she was my love, my only care”
I looked down at the ocean,
I saw the cerulean coast
And when I jumped I felt nothing
as I was swallowed by her ghost.
“Don’t wish me happiness
I don’t expect to be happy all the time…
It’s gotten beyond that somehow.
Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor.
I will need them all.”― Anne Morrow Lindbergh
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean-
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.
by: Robert Frost