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Tag: touch
Outside Night –
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I’m hiding in this darkness so long
That I don’t remember light.
I thought I’d open a window and see
What lives outside the night.
But on the glance of what should be hope,
I was blinded by the ray.
I never knew that light could
cause me this much pain.
But its warmth had a touch and
A sight of what could be,
I was still scared by the pain of knowing
That I really wasn’t free.
The prison I was locked in is
A cage of my own design.
Only I could use a key of faith
One had left for me to find.
Breaking the hardened seal
of my sepulchered life,
I blinked back tears at
What’s outside night.
Seeing A Thought
“I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.” ― Jeffrey McDaniel
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harryvarelis |
Seeing a thought, though it long past
How your touch and kiss, both would last
The wind in the trees, of my looking mind
Washed the slate clean, with the rain of time
Flitting rare bird, that affection of yours
I crawl through, the closing doors
Seeing a thought, though I longed it so
Touching the dreams, I let you go.
Second Hand
― Zoe York, Between Then and Now
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helenduplicate |
I Miss Me
― Sam Keen, Fire in the Belly: On Being a Man
I gave you my desire,
I gave you my fire,
I gave you my touch
I loved you so much
I gave you my labor
I gave you my anchor
I gave you my shield
I loved you to yield
I gave you my years
I gave you my tears
I gave you understanding
I loved you unending
I gave you my nights
I gave you my rights
I gave you my soul
I loved you to be whole
I gave, you took
I gave, you turned
I gave, you went
I gave, I miss me….
Like Heroin – Addicting pleasure
02022012
Misfits – Solitude of I
– Marge Piercy

Misty Is Her Way – Part One
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.”
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wallpagers |
I felt light traces of her fingertips, leaving a trail of pleasure long after they found other parts of my landscape to wander. My breathing slows, mind numbs, and a creeping satisfaction, like morning mist rolling down the hillside, fills every low place of my mind. The lows of sadness, footprints of giants pocketing my memory, cupped every delicate drop of her. These lined with the nature and nurture of excruciating experience, crushed me like shells on the shore, the pounding driving me into smaller and smaller pieces. Ah, but the mist of her touch, brought healing in the haze. The troubles disappeared as I soaked up the attentions and affections of her spirit, bringing me to life with her touch; watching as it swallowed my world in dancing swirls of natures skirt, a skirt of billowing softness, gently unveiling all her nakedness. Me, I am ravaged and barren, a scorched desert, but full of life, a life that stung, bit, and poisoned all potential for happiness. It is amazing how close to pleasure, pain is. It is possible to confuse the two, in fact, I counted on that to escape the dreary confines that echoed with the chains of my captivity.
The Little Door – Rage is hidden
I am still just a rat in the cage.”
– Billy Corgan
Wondering were I got this rage
Shocked, I never saw this before
Pressing close my ear, hoping to feel
The Little Door – Rage is hidden
I am still just a rat in the cage.”
– Billy Corgan
Wondering were I got this rage
Shocked, I never saw this before
Pressing close my ear, hoping to feel