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Writing is like breathing

The angels whisper, never stop trying, never give up, always ask for more..

Here is where I spread my wings and fly...

Come, take my hand
close your eyes and dream
fly with me
to shores of beaches
our toes in the sand

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Fault Lines

Tempted by his passion for me
he wrote of futures
dressed in silky satins
and I floated off in space
tied to ribbons from his tongue

That was his fault

Covering him in luscious language
I wrote of rendezvous
dressed in corsets of silk
that tugged his taste buds
on strings of golden splendor

That was my fault

We played with matches
on drought filled dreams
burning holes through our hearts
that we both knew
couldn’t last a summer

We were both at fault

When one’s heart is drawn to the flame
desperate for the fire
our fault lines grow deeper…



Words don’t fully express
my thoughts and imagery
when all of you
touch my heart so deeply
scattered daily expressions of verse
notes that tie your voices
to a screen in my mind
sweet like dollops of whipped cream
I taste your poems and stories
while others linger on my lips
salty from tears that drip
slowly into rivers
that run across the world
touching shores where 
you live in my heart and mind
a family of visionaries
where hand holding
has no space or time
just a place
we occupy…

Hello you guys, I missed you.

Seems I was blessed by a string of gentle heart tags while I was gone.  Writteninjoy2,
alienwitchlily, azukilynn, gustan-koumantaros,thephilosophersotherstone, smist999, feverishkite, shamelessselfpleasuring  and ladydragonslair.  Thank you so much for the love. ««3333
And thank you williamchapmanwritings and mermaidsbite for the reblogs. *hugs* to all of you

I hope to be on later after the unpacking. Muah!

When I fly


You called me to the mountain
barely audible whispers
in a slumber of silent content

through miles of flowing curtains
soft billowy waves
in summer white cotton
wafting whiffs of baby’s breath

I skinned my knees
on crests of mountains
you said “fly higher into the breeze”

I have never felt so free…

The Sun


If the sun could be described
as a physical gesture
it would be a caress…
wrapped in the warmth
of hands smooth and round
its smell would be of soft linen
that’s hung in the fresh breeze
of a hot summer day
to taste it…
I would pour its golden liquid
filling crystal chalices
like nectar, it would be sweet
bursting in me as ripened
berries fresh off the vine
the sun… 
couldn’t be any sexier