Our personal juices
Teasing through our
Veins. We are giddy.
Floral scents and that
Chaos of color makes
Us flighty as a puppy
Chasing butterflies.
It's spring; we crave
Love but more than
That. We're unreliable.
It's spring. Our blood
Is pumped for and
Primed. Renewal is
A reward, a privilege
The genitalia of flowers is frequently
On display, even in polite society as
Startling and unexpected as innocent
A pictorial to guide us on their growth
Loving you will save us, although
I know I am powerless, and my
Love can't save you from what
Ails you and rips you from me, I
Know that actively loving, giving
My whole heart in my care for you
Is my salvation. Our lives are on
Parallel paths, but our love is a
Collision course, both perilous
And divine. Love doesn't stop a
Heartbreak, but giving love can
Mend or bend and reunite us
With our better, nay best selves
Sex made me feel hopeful
And not just about us but
About the future. About all
Things sinuous, sensual, or
Sensate. About my senses
Hopeful about the sensitive
In everyone. The world was
Open and full of feelings. It
Was good. Good to be. Alive.
Every day, not ordinary, not
Everyday. Make more of what
You've got. Days are a gift to
Treasure and enjoy. It's always
A new day that dawns, even
When it feels like you've been
There before. Every day, not
Ordinary, it's extraordinary.
This is a sky full of expectations
This sky is brewing an epic event
Everyone says so, and I want to
Join in and be the enjoyer, happy
To watch for a darkening sky, a
Portent. An eclipse could bring all
Sorts of myths and tales of odd
Predictions and presentiments.
In sooth, the bleak will not foretell
Future events of a world plunged
Into obscurity. It will happen, but
Not again for a long, many years
Who am I? I am not
Complaining, mind
You; just curious.
It's easy to wonder
When the world is
Spinning so fast, I
Can't catch up or
Catch my breath. I
Knew yesterday. I
Did; then one more
Revolution took me
(And it) to another
Place, a new level.
Held tightly in the cocoon of
A blanket, as fears envelop /
Develop into thoughts darker
Than the night. Where am I?
You wonder. Am I lost in the
Night? Would I know my way
In the daytime? Is it only light
I am missing to guide and to
Cajole me? Am I truly lost or
Only to myself so others can
Find me, strip off the cover of
The night and let me see where
I am in the daylight. Am I lost?
That he's broken, and breaking
That's clear. It's less clear that
He's still there in his depth, to
The core. All his beauty and a
Touch of wisdom is perversely
Hidden in the fragments of his
Memory and thoughts. It's not
Clear he knows who he was or
Who he is, lost in the mix-ups
Of a mind unsettled to its core
Joy. He has such a capacity for
Joy. His dark mood can never
Obliterate his expressions of
Joy. It bubbles through, and he
Appreciates some kindness he
Has the sense to sense. Small
Joys win out over big sorrows
It is his gift. A measure of joy.
Tamara, really