| CARVIEW |
Pain goes in, love comes out.
eternal ballet
waves pirouette
onto the beach
reminding my heart
of a slow dance
I’ve imagined
between you and me
for so long I have longed
to hold you
to have the chance
to sweep you off your feet
my love
let me warn you
I may die in your arms
if our bodies
ever begin to sway
if not
I shall die of envy
watching the sea perform
its eternal ballet
The Lonely Author: fragments of me
To best understand a person, one needs to search their childhood.
This was a series that first appeared on my blog in April 2016. It has always been my favorite post.
I attempt to bring to life my first romance and my first big night.
With this series, I hope to show you the pieces of my childhood that make up the whole of the man I was to become…….
fragments of me
the woman of my affection
the woman that has my attention
is a scent of flowers and Chanel
intoxicating
like the aroma of her hair
her mouth a mix
of champagne and jasmines
that leaves me breathless
like the little dab of poetry gloss
she applies on lips
she is the glamour of a sunset
the dawn of my dreams
reminiscent of the horizon
forever beyond my reach
A little Lonely Author confession here. P is my favorite food group.
As in pizza and popcorn. Terrible fetish for both.
Yesterday a friend brought me a bag of popcorn. I should have advised her, “Flattery will get you nowhere, but a bag of popcorn, well, every man has his price.”
Yes, I can be easy.
popcorn and poetry
just a thought – 3
if I gave you my heart
would you share your mind
if you stay
rest your pain upon my pillow
as i undress your every tear
until our unfulfilled dreams
get tangled between the sheets
then as fingers entwine
i will serenade your scars
before making love
to each painful memory
if you stay
tomorrow I will wake up
to the dawn of your eyes
tonight, hearts will dance
as we spoon our way
to eternity
journey
i long to journey
the canals of your essence
to reach the frontiers of your soul
where I would compose
symphonies in your hair
write tender poems of love
cherishing you with every metaphor
that breathes inside of me
and should you not share my passion
I would die upon the lost shores
of your virginity
‘til the currents sweep me out to sea
if we had a song
The Lonely Author