Back With New Pieces

Mysteries Unveiled

Drunken splendor

Secrets locked

Tumbling out like

Alice down the hole.

Need a decoder ring

At the bottom of the box.

Broke it.

Now who can fix it?

Nobody can.

That’s right.

No one can make it right.

It will always be wrong,

Always dark,

Always deep,

Never shallow.

You can’t ever wade.

Hold onto the edges.

The only things stable

Are the edges that hold

The fluidity;

Contain the ever changing,

The never committed

Enough to tell.

Copyright © 2010 Natasha Guy

Alone

The hum of the refrigerator

Provides a background for the

Background music.                                                                                                

The ceiling fan’s repetitive motion

Casts soothing shadows across the

Three room studio.

Vanilla scents seep from the ends of

Willow looking rods resting in the

Glass chalice of oil.

My elbows sink deeply into the

Pillow top mattress that cradles my

Tired stretched out body.

His flavor still rests on my taste buds

While I reminisce about our coupled

Souls intertwined.

I close my eyes and

Feel his hands inching

Up my thighs.

His breath heats my skin

As he crawls the length

Of my torso.

The fire in his eyes

Ignites the factory within,

Increasing the pheromones in the air.

Our scents mingle

With the vanilla

Infused oxygen.

Breath sounds audible

In my memory even now

Days later.

My mouth waters at

The mental picture of

His manhood.

Bruises, handprints,

Sore throat, aching muscles,

Shaky limbs.

It was real.

Copyright © 2010 Natasha Guy