PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Singled out in a lime colored room,

She huddled against the couch

And hung her head into her glass.

He was looking at her.

At her.

The lines on his face

Etching the eyes and the little hinted

Smile.

She drew a breathe

And he held it for her.

A silver golden thread of

Possession

Hung between them,

A man she did not know.

She could feel him,

There across the room.

She could know how

He’d feel if she ran her hands

Slowly across his shoulders.

Sitting in command of every

Atom of his being,

She’d trail her fingers like

Riverets along his back

As she followed her hand

To face him.

Painted nails slip up the neck

To cradle the jaw of

A man she didn’t know.

Her thoughts wander to this

As she sits rooted to the upholstery.

Bare nails wrapped around

Sweating crystal,

She kisses him.

Leans over and kisses him.

Kisses him, Kisses him,Kisses him.

This man she does not know.

What are you thinking?

She turns, and blinks,

A voice inside her head.

You know I saw you.

You know I see you,

There across the room.

And he trails his hand across

Her shoulder.

Sends shivers electrifying

Down to her thighs.

He follows his fingers

To face her and asks,

Is this seat taken?

He sits, and the crystal sweats, and

She bobs her head and lets out the breath

He was holding.

The threads collapse

And the corposant flame

Not burning, but initiating

Like a novice to the church,

Captured and belonging.

Her heart sails

Straight out of her heart,

To the man she did not know.

 

 

She bolted like the thunder

Captured in the hollows.

Mountains and valleys

Echoing portent of rain.

She ran fast down the street

Clutching her coat

In a mad dash of the sane.

What was that Premonition,

That kismet of excitement?

What was that that

Echoed in

Her?

The thread was weaving

Its charms like a tangle.

She fought it with her

Arms

As she ran down the street.

She had to get home

Get away from the ions

And atoms of his form

That she could see so clearly

So clinging to her heart.

It ached from it absence.

No longer there

She could hearits

Heart beat grow louder

As she approached her

Safe haven

And slammed the door.

 

She leans breathing

The breath of the

Cursed.

Holding the door

Against all she’d been

Fearing.

He had her this stranger.

He knew her,

This stranger.

How had she escaped?

How will she

Circumvent this Cognoscenti?

This specialist of her soul.

 

She hears that is quiet now,

No call from the street.

He did not follow

Her

as she ran from his

Latency.

What did he want from her?

What did he need?

What did he see

In her little girl

Heart.

Panic and pathos

For her missing heart

She dressed slowly

In flannel and lace

Lace on her skin

Flannel covers the netting

As she crawls to

The comforting arms

Of her bed.

The chimera of the evening

Fades from her

Brain.

She clutches the hollowness of her

Chest, crying for something

She didn’t know that was missing.

Where is he?

She wonders.

Why isnt he here?

Why wouldn’t she allow

His tender touches

That seared

Her skin to his finger tips

Traced on her neck

As he brought her lips close

And he whispered her name?

Why wouldn’t she allow,

After he pulled her from her cushion

And lead her to the corridor

Down pass brightly lit

Kitchens

To the dark lighted hall?

Rooms full of beds

Shadowed deep and forbidding

As he choose one and entered.

Her hands trailing in his,

She stumbled at first,

What was his intentions?

Little girl, she hears her mind say,

Little girl, don’t be afraid.

But it was him that she heard

As he caused her to sway.

Their bodies ignited

Through shirts and a blouse

And his lips charred

Her mouth as she finally gave in.

 

Like finding home

The embrace like foam

Of forever

Encompassing her,

So making her whole.

The kiss soft, and not urgent,

Taking its time,

Finding her rhythm, answering back.

His kissed with his thoughts,

She could see where they lead,

And she went there unheeded.

She never would have guessed

That this was her soul

All calming and quiet.

 

And the kiss,

To hear the kiss, as an,

In this dinlessness,

As an

Exchange

of words.

I want what you are,

Ahh

I need what you are,

There.

Please take what I am,

All.

She fell into the blackness

That carried her soul

Over the want

Into the need.

 

He was backing her up slowly

Taking small steps

Edging undulating their movements

Towards the an insiduous landing

On comforter and pillows

As she lands she is startled

Aware of her surroundings

But he presses her lips

And she surrenders again.

I want to make love to you

The kisses are speaking

I want to make love slow

Slow slow love

To you and hold you naked

Cradle you gently

Kiss you and maybe even spank you

If you dare to say no.

But not here my dear

No not here.

She could feel the thread

Tighten and she let out a gasp

And she looked at the man

A stranger she did not know.

 

That’s all she remembers

Until she’s flannelled and laced

Her dreams fill with

Filament turning silver

To gold.

A lion heated goat

With a serpentine tail

Whispers

I want what you are,

ahh

I need what you are

There

Please take what I am

Now

 

 

That was then

and that was when

He pulled her in

Made the sin

Feel like suns

 

 

 Groggy and bruised

Her head swirling fire

She dressed in the form

Each day inspired

She went here

She went there

Sometimes she went nowhere

But the silver gold thread

Caught hold of her

Entire

Her life entire spun

Distaffly on the bobbin

As it lay in the maiden and

The Whorls held her down

As her life spun and it spun

The thread forming and defining

As it took hold of her shuttle

She wove such a stock

He stayed in her brain

His thoughts would not banish

To the point that they found

Her courched in a corner

Hands tight in a fist

Bone knuckle to forehead

Eye squeezed of the light

Rocking in rhythm to his voice

In her head

All she heard

I want what you are,

ahh

I need what you are

There

Please take what I am

Now

 

The weeks sped by

She slowly convince

What she experienced

Was not

What she had experienced

But the day would come

When buying some flowers

His hand picked them out

As she reached for the bundle

“Let me,” he said.

And the healing water trailed

From the stems to her hand

And they froze

As a icicle

Made of silver and gold.

“Where did you go?”

“You ran so fast

 when I asked you your name?”

“We were sitting and talking

As nice as you can

When suddenly you stood

And flew out of the room?”

Oh a lie on her mind

To tell him real quick

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