My desire
is as sharp as glass shards
piercing me
with longing.
With every jagged breath
I am cut anew.
:
@sirensong1208
Photograph taken from Tumblr
She is the ebb and flow of the sea
She is the ebb and flow of the sea.
Rushing in to invigorate
To arouse.
To make him feel alive
With the quickening of her surf
And again to recede
In gentleness.
Leaving behind reminders.
A constant in the background
Of his day.
Always just a touch away
But never intruding
Except when the swells build up
And passions rise
Threatening to overtake her.
It is then
That she shows him
Her true measure.
:
*Not new but simply, and currently, a truth.
©SirenSong1208
Photograph taken from BlackSwanDive
A math equation
She is all curves and lines.
A math equation
he would love to painstakingly solve.
His fingers
constantly itch
to touch her.
To caress
her naked skin,
the satiny feel inducing him to do so.
Again and again.
To stroke
the softness of her lips
drawing a smile from her
in the process.
To cup
her bare breasts
the nipples hardening
beneath his palms.
Until finally
he traces his finger
along the length
and curve
of her hips.
His calculation of her formula.
Complete.
:
©SirenSong1208
Photograph taken from Pinterest
Midnight reveries
It is when moonlight arrives
and hours are reversed
that their midnight reveries merge
and take shape.
Sleep and dreams find her
tangled amid a sea of white
her mind reaching out to him
as her fingers touch his
through the ether
dawn lightening his eyes
just as hers close
in darkness.
:
©SirenSong1208
Photograph taken from Pinterest
Message in a bottle
Upon the great expanse of liquid divide
setting sail
solitary missives
rendered brave
in their endeavour.
.
In the first days
her verse spoke in tones
mysterious
and yet,
not to him.
Cursive scrawl which read…
“He said compliments that come in a left & a right
a Shakespearean verse or 2
give light to my thoughts & desires
an earnest prising of you”
.
Hours became days.
The next fragile craft was set afloat.
“Sometimes my words drift along
waiting for your breath
your touch
the sweet ripple of your current flowing into mine”
.
Time moves as swiftly as the current
and as rapidly as her mind.
Her thoughts come quickly,
willingly
focused upon him.
Words take flight and arrange themselves thus…
“I speak to you
In one language
Disregarding
The one’s oft studied
Your hungry mind
Insatiable
This is the one
You will become fluent in”
.
She continues
unabated
and unchecked…
“Could you consider
That this is the thing
For you
The view aspired to
The touch hungered for
The mind that could sweetly battle with yours”
.
With each send off to the sea
she scans the horizon
watching the tide
waiting for her moment.
and then…
“Once more with feeling
setting her to music in his mind
finding her as unique as an accidental
he moves thru her melody
one note at a time”
.
The scroll carefully berthed within it’s harbour
makes it’s undaunted attempt
upon choppy seas.
“She reaches out and touches only air
his warmth
lingering
in the whisper of her name
and the way that he called her
his”
.
Every word becomes a way
to touch
to speak.
Every word she releases
becomes a message in a bottle.
:
©SirenSong1208
Photograph taken from Tumblr
A year.
A year.
12 months.
365 days.
Anniversaries can be happy occasions, commemorating a special event, but they can also be a marker on a timeline.
A gauge of changes made.
Once there was a path that stretched out before you, endlessly it seemed, but now you can look back and see how far you’ve come.
Life changed a year ago, in ways that I could only imagine.
You never really understand how monumental change will be until you are in the midst of it. There is fallout, great and small, and decisions that need to be made, continuously. It’s a perpetual pivot of action and reaction.
Things that should be part and parcel of growing up are now complicated and messy and filled with more questions than a test booklet.
No matter how much research and preparation you do, you feel off balance, always trying to strike a balance between assurance and uncertainty.
But you get there. Or partly there. You’re on the path. Trying to take in stride each fork in the road, each dip and hole, or frankly, no path at all. And you struggle. Silently. Because what would it do to scream or rage? So you swallow it. And it escapes in your dreams, it wakes you, it distracts you, it keeps your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.
And you manage this along with other painful trials and tribulations. Some you must keep secret. Some you must weather on your own, silently.
And then the day comes. A year. Was it really a whole year? And you look at them and you see the changes that the year has wrought.
You see that they are happier than they were.
You murmur a prayer of thanks. And you find hope and promise in the coming year.
Because you know that there are more hurdles.
But you’ve got this.
:
SirenSong1208
Photograph taken by Chris Ford
Drifting
I remember days of such closeness,
when I could talk to you about anything.
You were my best friend.
The one I could trust above all others.
You always told it to me straight,
never mincing words,
but always being kind.
The message was always delivered
with love.
You always knew,
even without me saying,
when something was wrong.
As I got older I kept my troubles to myself,
telling you only after the fact,
never wishing you to worry.
But now when I need your words most,
when I need the comfort that only a mother can bring,
you are drifting away from me,
your memory fading
your grasp on the here and now
adrift
and no matter how fast or hard I paddle
I cannot get any closer to you.
The fog is settling upon the water
and you are disappearing from view.
:
©SirenSong1208
Photograph taken from Pinterest
