On a carousel at dusk
we shared
a sticky pink cloud
from a cardboard cone
and I loved your sugar coated words
that lingered
on your lips
swirls of powered sweetness
round and round and round
dizzy with confection love
Add the red suit with that tricked-out sleigh and it’s a candyland of romance for the season. – mh clay
Sudden and cold
I felt it
understood to be etched
by your senses
sarcasm dripped
with simple shades
of madness
a trace of you
left
lingering
not forever
on my skin
Boy, sweet duck ain’t drenched in you! Thought you’d make a splash, but only left her dry. Boy!? – mh
Something of a different kind
something other than what we know is needed
a mosaic perhaps
or mural
a joining
you paint from the heart
and I’ll paint from my head
we can meet somewhere along this collective mess
and find meaning in the blues and greens
across a line or two or a circle of yellow hue
you’ll find my feelings in the jagged lines of red and silver
maybe I’ll find your voice,
the things you need to whisper in the splattered paint drops
let’s make a crazy mixed collage of inner colours
a little abstract but no interpretation needed
just a vibrant collision of wants and desires
dared expression in the canvas on the wall
Creative collaboration, convergent constructs; canvas reveals all. Can you see it? – mh
As night shadows fall
she lays
next to a memory
wrapped in ghost arms
her caught breath
longing
once again
for love to speak there
softly in a whisper
cordially inviting
the hear to hear…
Redundant? Or, the true path exponential growth? – mh
who lives upstairs
and smiles slightly when he walks by
makes me tremble
when I see him
and I wonder
what he does
on a lazy Sunday afternoon
and if he eats omelets for breakfast
the way I like them
and Vincent
as I call him sometimes
takes out the trash on Tuesdays
and on Wednesdays he always drives away at 7 pm
perhaps to someone waiting for him
with sweaty hands and bright red lipstick
Vince my beautiful neighbor, once held the elevator
on one of my bad hair days
and he smells so dam good all the time
Vince from apartment 304
doesn’t really know I exist
but I lust for him anyway
and dream him into bed with me
cause I know he’d like my softness
and satin sheets, and snuggling in my white duvet
as we sip fine coffee in the morning…
Vince, who I know so well
would love me
and love running and
love radio head
and my Vince would love guinness beer.
Ah, poor man! If he only knew what love awaits… – mh
we lost each other sometime
way down in the fall
when days were grey
and the wind blew my heart
around your mind
enough to break
into shard like pieces of glass
cutting words
one by one
till I bled
wide open
spilling truth
of painted crimson
across the barren desert
of your soul
colder now with winter looming
There’s a nip in the air; winter’s a harsh time to be alone. Speak words to mend broken shards or shiver in solitude. – mh
