The Sun Was Gone"I still have your wine glass in my pocket, is mine in your bag? Do you still get drunk with wine and bliss every full moon? I heard you moved; is your new room green, too? Are you happy without the memories and the mirrors? Are you peaceful in your new life? Do you still crawl under the blankets and read? Do you doze off with a smile on your face? Do you have a boyfriend? Does he love you; does he hold you?
I am sorry I never really held you..."
Dumbfounded she looks at his face. She knows this face. She had memorized it once upon a time, hadn't she? She knows the sea on those lips; she knows the sun in that hair. They are gone now. Without them he looks quite dull.
"Are you mad at me; can I be forgiven? I know I hurt you a lot, but I never lied about who I am. Can I sit down; can we talk? Won't you smile for me once even if it's for the last time? Do you hum your nonsongs and dance as you please? What do you write about now; do you still hide them from other eyes? Do you walk
The Animal(Howl into my ear;The Animal4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
give me your claws.
I want the animal in you;
in you I shall nest.)
Take your clothes off, take them off for me.
Let me see the scars and the marks,
those dark moles and faint sun spots.
I want to memorize the way your fur grows.
I want to tickle my cheeks with your goose bumps.
Let me count the bruises and the cuts.
I'll bless them with names;
I'll lick away the blood stains.
We can lie skin to skin for days.
I have enough kisses for your brows and lashes,
for nails, teeth and toes, for thighs and knees;
in your curves and dents I'll nuzzle my nose.
Let me see your skin dance.
Through and around; your every breath performs,
through and around, an ancient holy chant.
I don't want your dreams; forget the ifs and the maybes.
All those regrets you carry are nothing but sad stories.
You don't have to utter a single word;
your body holds all the promises.
Don't tell me any secrets, hold your confessions;
just take your clothes off, take them off for me.
© 2012 melekelif
fishi am a fishfish4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a dirty
Moon follows him,i go from room to roomMoon follows him,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
opening all the windows;
Night steps in, a shy
smile fainting on his lips.
Moon follows him;
gathering up her skirts
she sits on the couch.
she beckons me.
Smoke plays with my hair;
Smoke has light fingers.
© 2012 melekelif
If You Were a SecretIf you were a secret I had to keep,If You Were a Secret3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I could have kept you forever.
Secrets and scars and silent screams,
I am their overprotective mother.
Pausing By The WineMarriage isPausing By The Wine3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the frustration of reality
when the man who works the wine section
pauses in his tracks to make sure
you've found everything you "really need...are you sure?"
With a look that tells you
he finds you sort of beautiful
and you wonder how your life
might be different,
if any man other than this one
had ever looked at you like that.
Clashing MemoriesHe remembers her silent clapping each time they met and the final goodbye on the intercom as he left the building. He remembers the bubbles and booze and the sound of her voice when she was amused.Clashing Memories4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She remembers the expensive perfumes in his hair -one on each strand, fighting for absolute possession... She remembers breaking up with him, refusing to be the girlfriend he fooled, and breaking pieces of her heart as she remained one of his buffoons.
She used to love him. Or so she thought. She was not young, yet she still got confused when her existence wanted to fill another soul. Keeping someone company was safe grounds, yet passion lost her senses, her definitions, her boundaries. Passion shook her up until she imploded into herself, sticky and wet and useless.
She used to love him. Or so she thought. Never asked him where he was going, never asked him where he has been. She was alive when he wasn't there, and she wanted to die with each smile that escaped for him
I AmWhen I lingered my smile on your eyesI Am3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you must have seen a weakthing.
I am tough, boy;
centuries passed laughing through broken bones.
When I ran my hair through your fingers
you must have felt a babygirl.
I am old, boy;
a lost continent lies within my soul.
When I wanted sleep to get me from your arms
you must have thought I can't dream alone.
I am cold, boy;
a blanket would suffice.
MeI am bursting with emotionsMe4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
that are not mine to keep.
Same story, different faces.
You keep telling me to make my move;
I told you, I told you,
I never taught me the chess game.
The horses feel nice pressed to me palm;
the checkered board looks good;
but I don't know the rules.
"Come out to play" the world rings.
Play? Play you say?
Come watch me play
within me dream painted walls.
Take me to the woods;
I'll be quiet, I won't need to talk
to converse with the fireflies.
Drop me in the ocean;
I'll keep real still, I won't need to swim
to reach the shore; I won't need to die
to float over the sharks and the fishnets.
In the city let me loose,
screams will scratch me from within.
Me fidgeting legs will run miles
among the concrete boxes,
through piles of undead, unheard, unloved.
I am bursting with emotions
that are not mine to keep.
One of me appears by the window:
"I can only hold a ciggy in my hands, babe;
don't give me your heart."
She is trying to be ironic I suppose.
I am sitting h
They speak in heliumTequila, miniatures, compliments of KLM.They speak in helium5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's half a dozen shots; maybe enough
to let me clean out your desk today.
I open the drawer a crack, then wider.
That meddling slut Pandora's been here.
She's stuffed it full of arguments
and stale conversation, leaking trouble,
oozing bad karma.
Balloons come flying out, sputtering,
sucking up to the ceiling, helium-high.
They speak in absurdities and riddles,
mad on myth and inert gas.
But I'm so free, smoking Black Devils,
crumpled pack, under a map of Boston;
empty matchbook, The Frog and Peach;
my number, in your drunken scrawl.
I aim lungfuls of Dutch smoke upward,
toward the balloons, high on noble gas.
They scuttle away, muttering sotto voce;
curses they mean for me to hear.
Pandora babbles on about culture wars,
aestheticized lust and cool, electric sex.
She says the drawer is leaking trouble;
I say my heart is leaking trouble and smoke
and these fucking, trash-talking balloons.