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.



Painted Red

Her nails, ripped and ragged from hard labor
meant to dull the senses, need to be smoothed;
perhaps even painted in pale soft shades –

although he never did care for such things…

She wants to feel feminine – desire
reflected in a lover’s eyes for her.
Not a stranger who doesn’t understand
how to tickle her in secret places

at the nape of her neck,

backs of her knees –

the pleasure she takes in simply kissing;
who can’t leave a tender moment alone.

Ruby lips, tender from being bitten,
provide a splash of crimson on pale flesh
lost beneath a blanket of memories.


Distance Offers Time

Dreams and promises walk hand-in-hand, share
space in hearts and minds. Hope fills crevices
between reality and fantasy,
colors the sunrise – and sunset – beyond
the reds and oranges we see at first glance.

It provides magenta, crimson, azure,
goldenrod and seafoam to draw us on
toward tomorrow and the next day, healing
wounds and offering possibilities
in the shadow of painful memory.

Whether distance offers time in miles
or minutes, this need to touch and hold is
an aching reminder of days and nights
apart – and those shared – without each other.

© Siobhan