Slowly Sip

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I kiss her neck,
turn her cheek
a faint shade of red.

She drinks
to my emotions;
pours another glass.

Past my glossy blue eyes,
she licks her lips;
tastes alcohol on her tongue.

I’ll sit, enamor her buzzed beauty,
until she needs me later
dazed and confused,
in need of a hand to hold home.

Blue-Grey Iris

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Credit: Isaiah Stephens

If she only knew how beautiful she looks;
how her grey-blue eyes turn different shades
of blue as tears drip down her face.

As much as I want to help,
I can’t comfort her;
I’m selfish. I can’t stand to see
her eyes turn back into a normal shade of gray.

I need her to cry, so I can
write words about her from a distance;
personify her beauty at her darkest moment.

I love to watch her eyes
speak of emotion through color.
Damn, I love her when she cries.

 

Sway

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The way her off-white dress bottom dances
in a windstorm freezes my pass-by.

Both wind and her dress agree to hold hands.
They intertwine at different speeds,
exchange dips on the dance floor,
toss, turn, swirl around to the rhythm,
up until the wind passes on through;

the storm passes, sun peeks out, the next song resumes
her dress dances no more. My day goes back to ordinary.

Body Paint

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Credit: Matthew Scherfenberg

I dip my finger into a coat of light blue,
color you like an April spring sky;
kiss your cheeks softly, turn them into
a faint shade of pink, the same
shaded color on your lips.

Following the curves of your body
down to the floor, I slowly stroke
a color of red-orange

before we finish, I sit back and stare
at my  artwork. I wash my canvas off in water,
watch the running colors puddle beneath you
as I admire your untouched immaculate beauty

Under the Moonlight

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Dance with me,
spill your
darkest secrets.

Grab me by the hand, intertwine our fingers, whisper in my ear empty your soul, and tell me every one of your flaws.

Hold onto your sweet-nothings, your perfect smile crystal-blue eyes; I don’t want them.

Expose yourself, inside, I need to know.

I promise your secrets
are safe with me, here
in the dark, dancing under the moonlight

Guitar Strings

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Together, we can give voice to the voiceless,
sew a broken soul, and tell
stories in  minutes.

We’re missing a heart, but we
have fingers and a voice.
Not artificially, no,
the words aren’t our own nor
will they ever be, but
strum us together
or apart
and let us
tell unwritten stories
through the melody of music