Archive for the Love Category
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Getting the better of me

Why is he still away
Has the icy night led him astray
with the promise of warmth
on his skin
as whiskey spreads from throat
to chest
head upon another’s breast?

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First

There’s a certain shade
of teenage love
unlike any other
that time has to offer.

A passing flush
parades across the chest;
a formidable force
under the breast.

Heaving; heavy with
the weight of the First,
a confident uncertainty
of its own making
Sinking or Floating or Breaking
it becomes made.

A breathless vision;
here, well-hidden
in a canvas marred with age –
where vibrancy inevitably
has dried up like old paint
and succumbed slowly, under
silent fade.

Picture the seasoned lover
until the Last,
now warms with a pallet
of a predictable ensemble;
where a once-familiar hue
emerges as new.

Ah, the First –
a memory described
head-first deep-dive
into complete saturation,
summoned only in the tense
where once conquered all makings
now, washed from existence.

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Book Jacket Manifest

It begins with Love, something felt
A rush of warmth
Afternoon… bitumen
A classroom exercise and[!]
We’re paired to dance
[Here Comes Your Chance, Girl]
Summon the Cool, pretend to chew
Chewing gum, casual
Punctured by a giggle
Oh so nervous: a darling demonstration
Young, heart-pumping, bright eyes
Clearly-
you’ve no idea!
Our Hands linked, clumsy feet
[perfection, really]
My direct gaze
[Dare not look away!] …savouring
This boyish boy, this spunky spunk
With well-know initials
in the margins of my workbook
And blue pen on my palm
A childish act; deliberate
As if it could manifest
– shoot out from the hands into existence.
I stand straight; straight and proud
Thankful for this time, my chance
Over the other pretty girls
with braided hair and lunchbox sweets
[low ponytail, my golden apple]
The boy stands, moves,
Moves as I do [or tries to]
This dancing girl
Actioning the Feet, Playing Cool,
all while Making Note
The Mind Camera – click, click, click
and memory preserved
locked, wound-tight
for the unravelling later, when
The Writer emerges to fan the fiction
Alone in my Room
There, I summoned You
My fantastical creation
The narration of events
[not quite] rightly so
The promise of a kiss
I replay, my theatre
Lips to hand, soft, pretending
It happened [!]
With the same conviction
looking for the Clover
in a green blanket of possibilities
[one I knew didn’t exist]
[but looked for nonetheless]
So that it might grant me
Just one wish –
Might these Day Dreams
be as Night Dreams
and exist in the waking morning
the Desired Events [obsessively nurtured]
Played out beautifully, as rehearsed
Over and Over and Over
You knew, [of course you did]
[or at least, you do now]
that you shared
a name with the King
The King of Horror.
Musing-
Perhaps that influence, Now
This joy in fright
Travels down the spine
The scare – such a delight!
And skipping life’s pages
Present-
A bookshelf
and browsing book jackets
[my proud collection]
Here!:
The name reminds me
Back then,
Back when-
the girl was quick to blush
You were the first boy
…the First Crush.

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