Words drip soft and sensual, tones of velvet brown like coffee, scent of spices on the breath that drifts across my cheek and it could be a shopping list for all I know, the soothing lilt could speak to me of laundry, taxes. or of love a mystery I ponder with half-closed eyes while I imagine romance for a moment, passion breathing at my ear in structured rhythms I don't understand and lonely hearts make magic like a band aid built of hope because it is eternal a language can be learned if need be so I turn to meet the gleam of smiling eyes.
Wind rippled just the surface of the grass a gentle movement to open eyes shut down by business, turned so far forward to the goals that others made so paramount the tunnel shut out all the light and life of now, draining dreams to ashes that would clog the throat, would starve the spirit to a wraith, would carve away the joy as surely as a surgeon’s knife leaving wounds, not health, to stagger in its wake. How do we let this happen? How does all the beauty that is life escape us? And we are torn between the lead weights of the past, the grasping of the future as here and now becomes a sheet of pain beyond enduring because we never let it be.
Night wraps chilly fingers round my neck as I lean to see the moonlight disappear, someone else’s day casting shadows on my night, giving me the dark while they have noon Both dark and damp with chilly tendrils a delicate caress that catches at the heart to make it shiver as the dark becomes complete and alone becomes a burden as night settles full of silent sounds that pulse beneath the skin the icy taste of fear like knife blades etching snowflakes on the heartbeat in the throat yet still I lean to see to watch the edge of light dissolve and start to grow it’s only an eclipse, light will come back it does not last forever, does it?
I just saw red but I am not entirely sure if it was the moon or blood in my eyes because I was leaning backwards over the railing of my terrace to see beyond the overhang of the roof.
bajanblue Forum Posts (3,724)
RE: A mathematical quandry from the Goose
Frequently. It is like cold calling, twenty 'no's" to get that 'yes'.