Tag Archives: couple

The First Time We Fell, On The 4th

Brie and I sit on the balcony, sharing a bottle of wine.
It’s the end of summer, the wind is warm and so fine.

My arm around her, she rests her head upon my shoulder,
I kiss her head, her cheek, this dark night grows so much colder

 The Fort is full of revelers shouts, thumping music, noise.
The song and dance of love and sex, of girls chasing boys.
 We talk about this movie we watched together, the deep truth,
and beginning of feelings, after shooting fireworks of the roof.
 I ask her, will she be my woman, my lover, my mad eyed muse.
Kissing my softly, she says this is paradise, and The Serpent is loose.
 The revelers going on, the dull roar of the city, the darkness of lust,
she takes me by the hand, leads me to bed, and in passion we trust.
 Morning, I wake in her arms, and it’s still dark, though now it’s all still.
The night is death and the sweetest loss, filled with a cold, snarling will.
 She is soft, she is warm, and the fruit was eaten, before, and will be again.
The Serpent is the guarntor of paradise, and the madly broken always win.


The waves crash, crystal blue and Coke bottle green.
The salty air stings her bare skin, whips her blonde hair.
In her swimsuit, her body a Greek sculpture, softly pink
and perfect, as strong as the sun that warms the air.
I follow her to the grotto, Artemis unblemished.
Our little world in the warm, clear waters away
from all that would sully us, destroy us, drown us.
Under the waves Sirens call us down into the deep.
We hold close in the water, rolling with the waves.
The magic is fading with our age, and can’t protect us.
Her body is warm and strong and I don’t trust these feelings.
She pulls me tight and I bury my face in that golden hair.
Walk hand in hand back to our subdivision above the ocean’s edge.
Holdings hands means more than it did as children, but does it mean romance?
We are silent, only our harsh, ragged breath making a sound above the surf.
Her hand is calloused and rough, and it’s the touch of Artemis, still free to run.

Entwined In Light

Long dark hair on golden brown skin,
flow over bare breasts with nipples
soft and pink as rosebuds.
 The skin clean and clear, no rain,
just the bright golden star casting
glory upon our youth.
 We lay side by side, both of us naked
from the waist up, silent in the light,
silent in the sweet afternoon.
 And soon, upon our hot beach towels,
we make love, and become one and whole,
forgetting in ourselves, finding death.
 Rosebuds will bloom, flower so brightly,
and for a season they will be desired,
and then be cast aside.
 Naked beneath the sky, skin radiating,
another sweet afternoon passing on,
another day that can be nothing else.
 One last time, make love, beneath stars,
our souls scattered and entwined with
the ancient light.
 Stars too pass on, light reaching from death,
and warm in each other’s arms, in tender submission,
we fall back to Earth.

November Light

Absolved from feeling, in the early morning.
Cold November light, watery and thin,
trickling through bedroom windows
as we make love, flesh forgotten, flesh denied.

Holding in the sounds and cries, keeping quiet,
even as we melt like candle wax from the flame
of love and desire, spilling onto the sheets
and the floor, to harden into brand new shapes.

 Even as we lose ourselves, even as November light
crowns our skin with the gentlest or reprimands,
we listen for the high spirited sounds of morning cartoons,
meaning our daughter is awake, and this must end.
 Burying my mouth in her kiss, we cum together,
and slowly the flame that melted our skin snuffs out,
and the smoke of it still lingers, in raging, happy hearts.
Souls made new shapes, growing closer around each other.
 November light, casts porcelain quiet upon her face,
the sweet cold of the fading year, the light that remembers.
Those sounds of cartoons come, and we leave our reveries,
and dress, and return to the mundane world, the weight of flesh.

Blue Hoodie

Blue hoodie, so soft under my skin.
Her hot cheek touching mine in the cold.
Her breath is ragged and sad.
Other girls wear bikinis in the hot tub.
We look out onto the lights of the city.
She burrows her head into my neck.
That hoodie, soft, like her, keeps warm.
I kiss her ontop of her head, kiss her again.
The cold is coming closer as we hold tight.
Back to our hotel rooms, class trip rules.
We squeeze each other so tightly, shiver.
She looks up, and I softly kiss her plain lips.
Blue hoodie, soft and warm, our armor.

Our School

Our school, bright halls, soft lights.
All the things to know, to make us bright.
Learn all day, and dream of atoms and stars.
Learn all day, and smile at you, smiling at me.
Innocent days, where knowledge was sweet.
Innocent days, learning about our world,
hurtling around a star, a light in the darkness,
and all the wonders it held, all seen and unseen.

You’re asleep beside me, our daughter cries out,
sick and feverish, and I get up to rock her to sleep,
singing a song about the sun and the moon I remember,
swaying back and forth in the rocking chair, wanting her
world to be filled with the wonders we knew, we cherished,
we so freely given, and the darkness of this new time takes away.
Eyes so full and hungry, that stare into you, wrap you inside her soul.
That I could fill them with songs of the sun, and a poem of the moon,
not the things that this dark world has become……..

Sick Day Saturday

Rainy day. A cold, winter Saturday.
A chill in my skin, even as I cook her
my special recipe chicken noodle soup.
 I look at the wet and mud, muted color.
It feel so much more real to me now,
not like the lush summers of youth.
 I ladle out the soup, trapping lots of
chicken, my girlfriend loves the chicken,
and the fat egg noodles.
 Bowl on plate, spoon in bowl,
walking carefully to where she
lays on the couch.
 My breath catches, seeing her,
my lover, my woman, still a dreamer
of fantastic worlds.
 Wrapped in a blue blanket, wearing
her favorite hoodie, nose all the way
in an old Mighty Maid comic, from long ago.
 She’s kept something I’ve lost, an innocence,
a purity and hope, a belief in a better world
and the holiness of our heroes.
 Mighty Maid, like when we were young,
and she’s get a piece of that girl inside her,
where I’m just bitter, waiting for the fall.
 Like a sick day from school, curled up on
the couch, wrapped in the armor of blankets,
lost in dream worlds, fantastic places.
 So lost in the world beyond her, so ready to fly.
I watch her for a moment, just entranced by her,
her sweetness, her angelic light.
 She looks up, smiles, puts down the comic as I
place the steaming hot soup on the coffee table.
I kiss her head, her cheek, her cute little nose.
 She smiles, and starts to eat the chicken soup.
We talk, about the high and perfect days past,
about what we plan to do, once married, on our own.
 She curls up to nap, and I kiss her cheek, see her smile.
I go back to the kitchen to clean up, and see the sun coming,
and for a moment, for my lover, I believe in the light.

Cute Bruiser

Golden hair tied up tight in a bun on her head.
Clear blue eyes now dark with her veiling will.
Small hands taped and made into hard fists.
Her warm skin now tense and taut as wire.

The fight is here.

 My woman, unsexed, and washed of glamour.
Facing her rival in might, fire, not fury or hate.
Swollen eye and her cheek bruised a ripe purple.
But her gaze is iron strong, will not bend at all.
 The fight is over.
 Home again, her golden hair down and free.
She is soft again, with blood washed away
and the light and warmth is back in her eyes.
Still cute, with that hurt eye and bruised cheek.

She is the angel again.

 But I want that valkyrie too…….