PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I had set out in some way to find a path of yours that could cross mine as only such a love sick fool could, but had I love sickness it would be easy! Inspirations would come gifted form the universe and lady serendipity would chase master destiny into her arms. I, however,  am no ordinary steward of love and I struggle in my understanding of it in all it's entirety. Willing to give my self over to this... Feeling? Yet not with out the with-alls and where-whose.

 

Complications...

 

Now complications I am extremely well versed in. Conversations ruling lines in circles with French squares. Weaving in and out of agreement and truth. I never saw I truth I couldn't bend likeable perfunctory form . But this, us? I can't find the words to inscribe enough meaning to a less fortunate cumbersome complication. As well versed as I am thought to be, the meaning and rationale escapes me.

 

When he is near I am drawn towards his atmosphere; when he is away, my day seems less vivid in colour; yet, mostly in conversation I see red. Like the red cloth to a bull. I spite myself just in a passing thought of him. I chide my cursed heart for its inability to perceive my contempt for him, and my wanton whore-ish fleshen body which like gravity drawn to his orbit the gentlest pulling up of ridges, puckered skin begging to slam itself into the blue warmth, hypnotised by his cold eyes and held hostage to his roving hands.

 

For shame and self pity, I stray like a dog in heat following tracks on hopeful hunches and I cannot put right myself with this torn feeling. Were I a verse, I would beg my author to tear me up and flush fire though those words and let me flutter and scatter upon a wind into a thousand irreconcilable pieces and hide in cracks and shadows.  More than self preservation would allow, as previously,  it had intervened calling upon hope my heart still synthesised despite my protests and disdain.  It had a Life and beat of its own and a strong determination to be matched and mated. It has currently, no good sense at all! 

 

The street lamps had entered into the soundscape with an obscene hissing and and occasional crackle. The sun had lost its gold falling victim to a brilliant rhubarb glaze which seemed to be fighting an overpowering indigo dragging a rich deep blue across the sky. 

 

A cool breeze picked up and a warm scent follows through in the floating currents.  I instantly recognised it as it filled my senses. Dizzy confusion overwhelmheming my head! 

 

Too many complications...

 

Heated and dazed, I felt excitement, dread and fear pulling me this way and that! A sudden weakness spread itself like a pulse through my body I felt myself go limp in an instant  and then, a sudden sharp jerk as my arm had caught itself by my wrist somewhere. I sat there hanging waiting for the imminent ripping sound of flesh and fabric as the weight of my body dragged me down. Instead what I felt was a rough yank and like an obedient child I stood up righted and at attention eyes shut, but very aware.

 

I could feel the presence of him the prickles and puckering on my skin begging for a place locked tightly and sensuously pore to pore. The silence suddenly magnified. It became so deafeningly loud my heart picked its own pace. I didn't dare open my eyes. It was a complication of complexities that stretch on far beyond the imaginable. I wanted to see him, to feel him but I did not want to experience him. The way he reached in and took my privacy from me with such deft ease had me terribly afraid. I caught a fraction of courage and caught a sliver of vision from a disobedient eye which very quickly alerted me to his disappearance! 

 

How long had she sat there a fool, a thousand more times than she already was? His mischief was her Bain. She was learning fast that she was no match for him. He had her cornered in all the salubrious spaces. She could not fathom this unusual chess board. The queen was no longer able to reign free and the king she feared would soon have her mated...