Archive for the Prose Category
0
Gravity

A shadow dance;
I swallowed you up into my dark
and therein, the mass of your infliction
grew heavy as it coalesced
under my breast-
taking shape.

0
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.

0
Senses

I was asking it, even then
I pulled a man down
and in, it was my burning skin
flushed red
the d├ęcolletage said plainly
when mirroring the memory –
is it love?
The pleasure was a puzzle
upon me, that my piece could
connect with another so easily
perfectly – and yet
the picture eluded me
indeed, confuddled me
that I should write it down
back then and years later
now, still vexed –
Does good sex create love?
Or does love create good sex?

1 2 3 4 >