wanderlust

I’m a sucker for stealthily-but-not-really-stealthily romantic writing… and references to the sea. Whatever, here it is.

from bury your fucking secrets

his name was wanderlust
he told me a story of the ocean
and a girl with shells in her hair
he whispered into my ear
and held me as i shivered.

his hair was choppy,
deep sea blue
and he wore black pearls in his ears.
as he protected me from the chill of the ocean breeze
a warmth grew between us
and a kiss he offered to me.

the brackish taste of his lips
though normally deterrent
entranced me
for he was not a normal boy.
his name was wanderlust.

now

Words: never enough; sometimes too much.
Can’t express what swirls inside,
Can’t make sense of these thoughts.
Open lips wish/try to speak…
But being screams to be heard.
Palms up, walls down, let go.

the end is nigh

Last day of the year, today
Yet it feels like any Monday
Mind still holding on to sleep
Not ready to begin the week
What does that mean for 2008?
Think it might have to wait.

sigh

Why must it always be this?
Always, that is what I ask.
In time with our turning world,
My life simply turns in circles.
Though I thought troubles were over,
The confusion continues, seemingly without end.

blue

As the sky without a cloud
As the calm sea’s soothing waves
As a blanket long held, loved
As a pair of faded jeans
As much as these bring joy
That much does mine blue, not