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The Whisper of a LoverWhat can I say that two lovers have not whispered
Into each others ears?
I can compare you to the blissful tears
Flowing from my eyes like a summer storm
Every time you cure my worries.
A kiss from your lips is like a drizzle
Of sun soaked droplets
Warming my face.
When you emerge from the shower
I brace myself for the brisk waterfall
Dripping from your head as your lean to kiss my silent body.
When the first Native American
Sang his rain song
We were the first two droplets to fall from the sky.
Those will not do.
I love the way your eyes widen,
Watching me saunter to your bed,
Ripping off layers of clothes,
Rushing under the blankets to
Protect our bodies from Winter's chill.
A chill so different from the way
You make me feel walking
Your fingers through every plateau of spine,
Around the bend of elbow,
Over the plains of stomach,
Through the hills of breasts,
Onto the tundric ice desert of my
I melt. I melt.
From the bed
A Letter to YouI love when you look at me in the morning
As the sunlight penetrates the curtain slits
And casts serrated streaks across my skin.
In that moment I am not an ice queen,
I am not worrying about work, or hiding behind a façade of astrology.
I am the woman with messy hair and bad breath,
Oversized pajamas, and a compulsion to checking the time.
I am the woman grasping for your arm to drape over my boney shoulder,
Looking for the crevice in your curled body where I can angle mine
And become cocooned with you in threads of silk and cotton.
I am the woman in that moment remembering every past love lost
And praying to some false sense of God that you are finally the last
Sweater I will have to try on.
PS- I love that green sweater,
The one that is a little too small for your arms,
But smells comfortable.
The way Whitman must have felt
The second he planted his head on the grass.
CleanIn the backseat of your dad's car
We spoke of black holes, ghosts, and God.
You asked which one I believed in the most.
"Black holes because they're attached to the other side of the drier and steal my socks."
I didn't know you never owned one,
I'm sorry for that,
And for the time I paid for your meal
In front of your friends.
My father always taught me to be generous.
I was fifteen and had never heard of pride.
I discovered it when you kicked dirt in my face
As I tried to wash your feet for church,
And I spat in your hair
(Not that it made a difference).
I prayed twice as hard that day.
It must have worked because
You threw stones at my window that night
And climbed up the oak tree into my room.
The next morning my dad
Asked why there was
Dirt on my white carpet and blood on my sheets.
I told him I had been visited by an angel.
The Ascenscion of Fallen LoveI'm by your side
Watching you crush me
With your smile.
Distorted in the moonlight,
We walk through the rain.
The puddles reflect my body:
A twisted barbwire, loose chunks
Of skin, a bloody mess.
It is getting harder to mask what I feel
My dignity is melted into
The cup of coffee you swallow
In the morning,
There is no asking if you still love me
You smother your eggs in ketchup,
Avoiding my gaze,
Shutting the door behind you,
Creating an omnipotent slam
Masking my foiled attempt to
Waiting for your return,
I read romance novels
Trying to find the right words to say
But you never came home.
So I make kites out of your shirts
And let the wind carry them out of sight.
There's the song with the familiar twang.
The radio does no justice to the way you sang it
In my mother's kitchen.
Your cowboy hat
Fell awkwardly over your eyes
Searching the crowd
For a familiar face.
"Ah yes!" you said, "There's the gal who started it all. Ain't she a beauty, fellas!"
Ah yes! You found me.
The crowd was whistling and hollering
As your fingers plucked those strings
Like your hands plucked the
Peaches from my trees.
Ain't no other New Yorker can sing Missouri bluegrass like you.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More