writing



Rearview Mirror

The stoplight wasn’t nearly long enough;
I only caught a glimpse in the rearview.
Not enough time to drink in his image –
left thirsty, only a sip of blue eyes
(were they blue beyond my imagining?)

No cigarette dangled from crimson lips
– which only made me want to taste them more.
With no idea of height, just a hint
of stature by his casual posture
leaning against window and steering wheel.

Red turned green – envy my destination
as he disappeared around the corner.
I just passed, too shy to reverse my course.
He will remain in my rearview mirror.

~Siobhan
11/18/13


Black River Water

 

Colors washed from the day run together;

river water darkens from green to black.

My mood, captured in the dimming sky light,

grey mixed with muted brown, is overcast.

 

Winter’s approaching brings with it sorrow

unshakable – even after these years

of tears, rants, and raves, followed by healing

wounds that break open with a touch of past.

 

Time spent wandering among trees, along

river bank and deserted beach, provides

respite – a path to remembering you.

 

And although we never walked along here;

I find you blended in muted color,

our love in the deep black river water.

 

~

Siobhan

11/18/2013



Strength of a Memory

Moments come and go when the ache for you
is so intense, I’m certain I will burst
into flame; the longing to caress you,
taste you, saturates me, my every pore;
my mouth waters at the thought of your mouth.

Strangely, my body does not remember
other hands and mouths, other intimate
partners with the strength of your memories –
perhaps their passion did not run as deep
for me – desire not as evident.

I wonder how long it will take for these
sensations to run their course, fade away
– parts of me (yes those) don’t want it to end;
others hope its soon for sanity’s sake.

~ Siobhan
1/23/13


Forgotten Enough

Each stroke becomes a slap, the sting of words
bruises flesh just caressed; desire’s ache
turns to ire and passion dissipates.
Her body is, being freely given
to him,
questioned at its curves. Attraction
seen in another’s eyes sparks suspicion.

Platitudes of trust ring hollow, she is
faithful; he has few doubts, it’s not in her
he sees deceit – so he says.  Be patient.
Past lives haunt them with cruel memory;
each has given, only one forgiven
(or forgotten) enough to start anew.

Yesterday’s misery destroys today,
they pay the price of loving and losing.

~
Siobhan
11/15/12


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image


The Patient

He’s pale,
bleached to match the sheets;
grey hair greyer,
pink scalp one shade lighter
than the last time she saw him. Older
age settles around him,
a beige blanket thrown across his lap matches the universe.

Waking,
he notices the world has come to visit;
his smile throws light into eyes
all at once blue,
brilliant,
and mischievous.
And she has her father back.

~ Siobhan
4/30/12


What He Hears

Seduced with sensuous words, he is lost
inside; tantalized, tempted, and tortured.
The only release imaginary
conversation – copulation – with her.

Short of the physical, this sensation
captures him, leaves him – hanging on the edge.
She whispers she wants the push and the pull
give and take, their shared passion – desire.

He can’t see through her words, to who she is;
does not want to look beyond the surface.
Fantasy plays a large part in his life,
reality has little use for him.

And so he listens not to what she says –
but to what he hears her say in his mind.

~
Siobhan
03/26/12

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