On the other side
behind a closed bedroom door
she hides from the world


When she looks back now
to the not-so-distant past
he’s still all she sees


Spring awakens her
Desire blossoms inside
Reaches for the sun


Sitting on the porch swing, her bare toes reach
for the rail, touch briefly before she swings
back. Spring symbol, a robin, hops across
her field of vision and sun warms the air.
With the gentle back and forth motion, she
drifts in and out of memories. Winter
almost over, as snow melts, she begins
to shed mourning, allows herself to thaw.

Dogs bark a block away, a distraction;
she wonders at their conversation, smiles
at the thought, and returns to her musing –
emotions, wild as spring storm winds, emerge.
She is at once calm and restless; pent-up
passion waiting for desire’s return.


Under the Winter Moon

Circled by clouds, full moon lights the quiet –
I am reminded of fingers entwined
and kisses once shared beneath such a moon
one breath – your exhale, became my inhale.

Did we ever recline car seats and stare
up at the stars? Neck across the gear shift?
No, ours wasn’t backseat teenage groping
the kind I never had when I was young.
We made love, explored passion together,
allowed adult desire to blossom.

Now in this room alone, I remember
the warmth of your hands as you caressed me,
the taste of your breath, your lips as we kissed…
and wish I could push forward to forget.



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

Hidden in the Shadows

The look on his face when she touches him –
his grey eyes shifting from green to hazel;
a shadow hides what he’s thinking.
Once upon a time she knew the answer.

Hidden in the shadows are all her fears;
she’s afraid to speak for the fear of losing
what she already has and cannot lose.
Once upon a time she knew she was his.

She feels the sensation of his passion
passing her by; he cannot see her want
and does not want to see her desire.
Once upon a time, it was his to have.

Her fears engulf them, casting long shadows
and hidden beneath – once upon a time.

~ Siobhan

Near the Edge

When I’m most certain that this is all there
is; that I can’t step one more step forward,
I recall the desire and passion
we share; when you bend to kiss the dimple
at the small of my back, trail your fingers
down my spine and confess so much to me.

This exact moment, held inside, is now
brought out when I am near the edge, keeps me
looking forward into the next moment,
when your lips kiss the corner of my mouth
and whisper how much you love that I am
open with you, that I share my body
only with you. At the edge, I remain
captured by what I imagine was there.

~ Siobhan


To fall in love for the first time with you
is no longer an option; maybe not
for the second or third time, or the last…

Our first time was slow, with great subtlety.
An intimate dance, desire drawn out
with words soft on tongue-tip, gentle kisses,
and a quickening of hidden passion.
The second and third time, it was lust
mingled with the bits and pieces of love.
Fire ignited those tentative flames
until we shed reluctance with our clothes,
found the bitter and the sweet that is us.

It’s no longer the first time and I know
there’s no option for a last time with you.



Words, bottled up inside for so long, leak
slowly; where once they flowed from fingertips
to key, through ink and pencil to paper,
they drip in syllables meant for someone
unnamed, unseen, beyond the barricade.

She has transitioned from young to younger,
back to that time when she formed her views
love and life – life and love – reality;
to rethink where she has been, where she was,
find the path forward to where she is now.

Her hands skim blank pages, stroke all the keys
looking for the release, her thoughts ready…
hesitantly, she writes without regard
to questions and fear, her passion returned.


During Sex

She closes her eyes during sex;
not, as he imagines, to block out
but to let in – the self
confidence stolen
years ago.

History cannot repeat
when she does not
look into his eyes
when she refuses
to remember
to risk
seeing that same look.

Once, eyes wide, she knew
he was not with her
was not in her.
Half-whispered names
no longer sounded
like hers,
two syllables
too similar –
were they so much alike
he could not tell
the difference
even in their names?

She cannot close
her ears
so she closes her eyes during sex,
allows herself to feel
passion and desire
to believe
they are for her
this time.


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.