Dreams of You
Dreams of you kiss my lips ~ plush and full and wet like hot wild exotic forest. My skin burns with your sweat and calls out in the language of fairy and mermaid.
Inside my chest a deep red flower grows, opens its heart, blooms untamed ~ vines and leaves and dew dampened softness. It is as if I can not breathe for there is no room, my chest is is full ~ your flower within me. Could I die this way? Could I truly care so much for you that it may kill me?
I reach out to you ~ small and spent ~ curled and sleeping beside me where you collapsed on the bed. I reach out to stroke your amazing face, touch your golden god skin. My fingers pass through you ~ as you are merely a memory turned dream-lover-best-friend-lost-soul-mate-broken-beauty, my lion with angel wings. My beautiful flower shrinks away and buries its self in the hollow ache of my stomach, a breath of sand paper and chewed finger nails rushes into me bringing burning salt grain tears that scratch as the pool and fall from my eyes.
Your green eyes open ~ green the color of stars and energy and heaven ~ green the color of ecstasy. Green that holds on to me and knows who I am even when I do not. You haven't spoken out loud. Dream-lovers-best-friends-lost-soul-mates-broken-beauties do not speak, lions with angel wings do not speak, mirages do not speak. Still, my soul hears your voice as if it were a whisper ~ so close to my ear I could feel it.
I do. I feel it. I feel you. I feel you when I dream, even when I am awake sometimes. Many times. I feel you as if you were music or rain. I feel you in my bones, on my skin, hand in hair, shoulder to shoulder, under the stars. I feel your radiant sunlight when I dance. I feel your smile when I laugh.
I * I could give you the letters I write, the dreams I have at times. I * I could give you art in hand made envelopes. You are still my muse, and ~ I miss you.
Inside my chest a deep red flower grows, opens its heart, blooms untamed ~ vines and leaves and dew dampened softness. It is as if I can not breathe for there is no room, my chest is is full ~ your flower within me. Could I die this way? Could I truly care so much for you that it may kill me?
I reach out to you ~ small and spent ~ curled and sleeping beside me where you collapsed on the bed. I reach out to stroke your amazing face, touch your golden god skin. My fingers pass through you ~ as you are merely a memory turned dream-lover-best-friend-lost-soul-mate-broken-beauty, my lion with angel wings. My beautiful flower shrinks away and buries its self in the hollow ache of my stomach, a breath of sand paper and chewed finger nails rushes into me bringing burning salt grain tears that scratch as the pool and fall from my eyes.
Your green eyes open ~ green the color of stars and energy and heaven ~ green the color of ecstasy. Green that holds on to me and knows who I am even when I do not. You haven't spoken out loud. Dream-lovers-best-friends-lost-soul-mates-broken-beauties do not speak, lions with angel wings do not speak, mirages do not speak. Still, my soul hears your voice as if it were a whisper ~ so close to my ear I could feel it.
I do. I feel it. I feel you. I feel you when I dream, even when I am awake sometimes. Many times. I feel you as if you were music or rain. I feel you in my bones, on my skin, hand in hair, shoulder to shoulder, under the stars. I feel your radiant sunlight when I dance. I feel your smile when I laugh.
I * I could give you the letters I write, the dreams I have at times. I * I could give you art in hand made envelopes. You are still my muse, and ~ I miss you.
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