Love Did Not Fade

Her eyes did not wander
no kisses were shared
on another’s lips
love did not fade


she walked away
from mistrust
and pain



love did not fade

Lost in the words of a song –
a bitter boy
clings to the hands
of time
and the widow     separated
from the bride
by years of experience;
love does not fade
it all becomes part of his game


even when she is not the one
he is thinking of
love does not fade

it remains

hidden, locked away
the passion of six years
bittersweet, held tight

surrounded by wishes and desire

no it didn’t
does not
did not

~ Siobhan

April Showers

Stretched out on the couch, she thinks she hears each
drop as it splashes against the porch rail.
Is she listening for more than the rain?
Not that she would admit to anyone.

She relaxes into the memories,
his hands become liquid heat, each stroke and
each caress a sensation pouring down
the length of her body like a spring storm.

Her chest hammers with each clap of thunder;
the rumble burrowing deep inside.
A reminder of passion kept waiting
for that moment, his touch …no longer hers.

Highlighted by lightning flashes outside,
the April showers wash away the past.


There is an opening
in these arms
a place for comfort
and passion
no signage will be put up
no ads placed in the paper
or vacancy sign hung
with flashing lights to attract
– or warn
the passerby
You see
this space is not for rent
no squatters need linger
only the serious need apply
although there is no application
nor selection process per se

Random acts of kindness will be
looked upon with caution
and a smile

yes there is an opening here
the beginning of something
I just don’t know what



An Invitation

Inspect my imperfections,
the dimple
on my thigh
and battles scars
of child birth.
Run your fingers along my shin bone,
the subtle bumps
earned in childhood play
– and my young-mother-stumbles,
when I fell
pursuing little boys in danger.

Study the flaws
reflected in my mirror
each time I undress
when I see myself
with a critical eye – and wonder
what he saw
to find
beauty in the image.

Place your hands on mine
caress the length and detail
of this body;
discover me
with your eyes – accept
this invitation
to participate in life



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.



Standing in the Middle of the Room

Avoiding touchy-feely-painful parts,
concentration centers on physical.
We dance alongside our love, as always,
aiming to profess – confess undying
passion we rarely ever exhibit
anymore. When the mood strikes, thunder-clap
sex emerges lightning fast – rain washes
scents of it from our bodies, no longer
still entangled in sheet, panting passion,
murmuring words of wonder; we leave out
emotions standing pink-elephant-esque
in the middle of the room, not wanting
to spoil one second with reality
all our differences – money, family, friends.


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


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.


His cold marbled flesh
drenched in summer Paris rain
warms me to the core.

~ Siobhan