Archive for the Prose Category
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Drowned Thing

The siren’s call
echoes across the waves and
out from a whirling dreamscape
she pulls the man, down
into the lonely blue
and the delicious black
her fingers press
against the marks
of his intention
a drowned thing
he takes a breath and
rushes toward the surface
the siren wails, stay
but cured of his infliction
the man escapes, away
back –
back into the dreamscape.

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Tuesday

You lean into my kiss
with whispered breath
and soft exhalations
across your lips
I stand, tip-toed,
whisky-warmed
and eyes-closed
drinking you all in.

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Slow Burn

Man of Mystery
hovers breathlessly over me
eyes aflame
burns from stem to root
I shake
with torturous anticipation
and turn to ashes
in his arms.

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