Your taste is a ballet.

Dancing across my tongue.

As I nibble at all your bits and pieces.

I find myself lost in the moment.

Rejoicing in the thought of what is to come.

The pleasure you will bring.

I find your hidden treasure.

As I slowly bite down your taste is released.

Filling my mouth with sweet chocolate.

They say love can't be bought.

But you taught me otherwise.

Sweet Cookie Dough.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

A silly incantation expressing his love for you,

I can do better,

Let me try,

Whilst the roses wither and the violets die,

My love for you has boundaries,

Would not persevere through tragedy,

Dames more fair still catch my eye,

I don rouge button up and lipstick tie,

My romantic gesture repertoire includes,

A peace sign through which my tongue protrudes,

You to others I would not defend,

If your weight demonstrated an upward trend,

I will not love you 'til you're old and gray,

Or cherish you 'til my dying day,

You will not mother my spawn lest it be a mistake,

My likeness will never accompany yours atop a layered cake,

You'll never hear me say I prefer your face,

When of makeup there isn't a trace,

My ears do not wish to overfill and teem,

With all of your future hopes and dreams,

I would not spare your life with mine,

Or invest in you all of my time,

Would not care for you when sick or ill,

And on a date we'd split the bill,

You cannot reroute my mind from this impasse

Besides, you seem attracted to type jack ass,

My main objective is most definitely not romance,

But if, "I love you," gets me in your pants...

Oh c'mon baby, enough with the attitude,

So quick to criticize and call me rude,

Already he has lied while I've told NOTHING but the truth,

Gullible girl, violets are not fucking blue.

How dare you tread upon my new found happiness by offering me the only thing I ever wanted years ago,

My beat was fast, your heart too slow,

To catch up to the way I was feeling,

I've finally moved on and now you're set on stealing,

Any joy that doesn't originate from you,

Selfish boy, is this a ruse?

How dare you give me the opportunity to choose,

I'll never understand your fascination with triangles, your rejection of twos,

But I remember what it felt like, what it felt like to lose,

When I couldn't outshine her, your winning muse,

And now you expect me to do what you couldn't for me,

Walk away from what's promising towards something risky,

I would have put it all on the line for you then,

If only to call you more than a friend,

Would have dove straight into waters unexplored,

Taken that jump, had faith that we'd soar,

Would have left common sense in the dust,

To see what it feels like to give someone your trust,

We could have tread paths through murky forests green,

Traversed the world on a boat cross the seas,

Flown around the globe to places unseen,

If only you were now what you had been,

But time passes at the beckoning of none,

No matter your wishes against it, the day will still come,

The years revolve as we do round the sun,

I'm wiser now and of love I'm skeptical,

No longer the naive girl so susceptible,

To falling head first in an embrace oh too sweet,

Much less prone to being swept off my feet,

So if you're asking me to take a chance on you now,

I'm afraid I no longer know how,

I've forgotten the steps to the dance we once knew,

Forgotten the words to our duet too,

I cannot for the life of me remember how to love you...

Picture credit: "Persian Cat Room Guardian" -Anyaboz DeviantArt.

analgesia amnesia antidote 

to last night

stuck in throat

tattered pride resides

in your eyes

lost to me

vestments of vanity varnished 

in sacrificed blood

now chemically numb

coming round to LED

light and message beep

reality of the deceipt

I can't look at you

Without smiling.

Your gaze takes control of my mouth

Tugging at the corners

Relentlessly pulling and pushing

Even if I try to stop it

I can't.

But do I want to stop it?

If only so that I don't seem quite so

Lovestruck each time I see you,

Then yes.

I didn't give you permission

To shape my lips

That have never even touched yours

Though they want to.

Time freezes

When you look at me.

Heart stops

When you smile at me.

Soul dies

When you pass me by.

Stop making me smile

But don't stop smiling at me.

If I knew my dad,

Which I don’t,

but if I did,

Which I don’t,

He might tell me,

which he won’t,

not to throw it away.

If I could make a difference,

Which I don’t,

Which I try,

But I don’t,

My brother,

Which he ain’t

Would be here today.

If I deserved my wife,

which I don’t,

which is wrong,

but it’s not.

Probly not.

She’d feel loved,

instead, I betray.

If I understood love,

Which I don’t,

But I do.

No I don’t.

I wouldn't pretend,

which I don’t,

but I do, every day.

If I knew how to survive,

Which I don’t,

though I am,

But I won’t,

though I am,

I’d be thankful,

And my heart wouldn't stray.

An old shaggy rug lies by the living-room door, grubby and past hope.

Not any more worthy then the carpet laid down before

it and of no greater quality. In keeping with the poor décor.

The edges are frayed by the wear and tear of a lightless lifespan.

If you look closely you can see the splotches, stains,

the faded remains of old trauma

lifted mostly by the years of constant scrubbing but

eventually abandoned and thought sufficiently dealt with.

A clutter you might consider collateral damage

or debris ready for loading into the skip ready for the dump.

The sort you might beat with a stick or throw against the walls

knowing it is a hateful task. Knowing it has outlived its worth.

The fragments of filth flake away but your arms won’t have the strength

to get all the dirt unearthed from its shambling remains.

You would need a specialist to even come close to a restoration

but who would pay to fix such an ugly and cheap thing.

That sort of treatment should be reserved for the once brilliant,

Not the type of throw down and walk all over,

never-remove-your-muddy-boots, flea infested offal you see here.

The properly cared for and well-kept type.

You can still see the folds lifting from the floor. An afterthought care,

where the only departure from that dreary dreadful room

was a door constantly rammed against and dragged away.

Only straightening out the rug as if to nurture the damage already done.

It’s a long shot but if anybody can find it a home, I’d owe them one.

Today, I felt sunshine

and it felt like your lips blowing against my skin

like your warm breath was next to me again

And I breathe in the rush of feelings

and I realize that it's just summer

that only sunshine is kissing my skin.

Realities stacked, each one on the next,

all neatly bound to the boundless text.

I know the things which could have been

as they happen over and over again;

the words rearrange

but the page doesn’t change,

for everything is relative.

Viewing the world as it was and will be,

living it all simultaneously.

I haven’t the bound’ries of space or time—

One fluid motion, this dance sublime.

Cyclic and swimming

my mind won’t cease spinning

now everything is relative.

Like the single electron does seamlessly thread,

the lines and patterns sew thoughts in my head.

I objectively see free from chronology;

no frame, no bias, no mythology.

No opinion, just truth.

No faith, just proof

that everything is relative.

Through parallels and palindromes,

down Lorentzian Traversable rabbit holes,

until I am reduced subatomically

to a deeply fundamental me.

How transcendent the vision,

the Angelic Condition,

when everything is relative.

Blue,

Feels refreshing and cool,

Relaxing and smooth.

Blue feels like a sky of possibilities,

Or a window of opportunities.

Blue smells like salt when you jump into the ocean,

With the waves swirling around you in magnificence.

Small amounts of water is very light blue or transparent,

While the ocean is a deep enchanting blue.

Blue sounds like waves lapping on a beach,

Or even the sound of a seashell.

But while blue is calm and relaxing,

It is also cold,

Blue is winter,

Blue is your hands when they’re cold.

Blue is beautiful,

Terribly beautiful,

It can make you happy,

And sad at the same time.

But blue is also a bright summer sky,

Bringing a smile to your face.

Blue are snowflakes falling on Christmas eve,

Blue are children creating snow angels.

Blue is an enigma,

A fresh new idea,

Eyes that tell a story.

Blue is troublesome,

It makes you feel lonely.

Blue,

Feels refreshing and cool,

Relaxing and smooth.

Blue feels like a sky of possibilities,

Or a window of opportunities.