Kissing You

26 February, 2011 at 22:20 (Uncategorized)

I love to kiss you,
I love the way,
your tongue flicks between my lips
you taste of cigarettes.
And when I say,
I wish you wouldn’t smoke
you tell me
I’m conforming to society
well…no…I just wish
that we could kiss
and that I wouldn’t have
to brush my teeth directly afterwards.


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What If

23 February, 2011 at 14:55 (Uncategorized)

I’ll always want more.
There’s an ending,
a Christmas carol sung in the snow,
a boy standing in an open doorway,
one night on a hotel in Japan.
This, is the end,
the closure,
the kiss,
an end to suit how it began.
I know who I am
I know who you are
and to know is to know
where it goes
and I wish
that bliss
of that permanent kind
could exist for us
outside of the eye in my mind.

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Could Never Have Been

23 February, 2011 at 14:51 (Uncategorized)

When I’m driving I miss you the most
If it’s dark and there’s music on
especially if, its U2.
Theres darkness, there’s wine,
there’s a little rewind in my head
that says
maybe I was wrong
and if I could have just…
I wasn’t wrong then
I’m not wrong now
but honesty, self-knowledge,
are so much less fun than
the little voice at the back of my head
saying It could have been
It could have been
It could be now
and when has
one night
ever been enough?
Even when it may have been one night
only poetically.

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22 February, 2011 at 01:16 (Uncategorized)

On the days when Alice cries,
Christopher always comes.
On the days when Christopher sighs,
Alice bakes sweet things for their tums.

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20 February, 2011 at 14:24 (Uncategorized)

It is the red of your lips against your skin,
That reminds me, insistently,
Of how we first kissed.
A street corner, a little way down from the pub,
And you sent me, weak to my knees,away,
I have always been, caught in that kiss,
since the first time,
sent away from you, trembling, eager.
And now I find your hands relieve my tensions,
and the comfort in your arms secures my world,
so safely,
And yet – with passion.
Who’d have dreamed that it was so possible
to tremble at the kisses of your lips then
and find strength at your touch now.
Even discover that our kisses, long-since losing
that Mills & Boon edge, have become
treasured items, as always
the centre of my creativity.

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19 February, 2011 at 02:47 (Uncategorized)

Alice longed for Christopher
because she could not sleep
Christopher laughed at Alice
and told her to count sheep.

Christopher hugged Alice,
Tight and tighter, so,
Alice laughed at Christopher
because neither of them let go.

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19 February, 2011 at 02:25 (Uncategorized)

There was something about you tonight.
Such a simple thing
and it’s five years ago again
and we can’t keep our hands from wandering.
Or our eyes from…
but, no, it’s not
five years ago
and we’ll take a deep breath in
let’s begin again.
You’re looking very good tonight,
and how do you do
and how do you do
and how do you do again.

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Shut Up!

19 February, 2011 at 01:43 (Uncategorized)

Of course I know he knows,
that isn’t the point.
He can say he doesn’t know
and thus
he won’t get that
embarrassed look,
that horrible ‘gods she’s here I need to go…

oh yeah…

like the look on his face
about now.

The point is…
The point is…

That you’re too interesting not to write about
You all are
far too provoking of passionate response
I can’t help myself
I’d rather write
than make friends.


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19 February, 2011 at 01:41 (Uncategorized)

I miss when things were simple
and nothing carried hidden meanings,
there was
just now
and this
I frankly miss you kissing me.
I like so very much to be touched
and everyone kisses me
more or less
it was fun
and then
the last time
was just confusing
then you stopped.
I miss when things were easy
and there was no particular position,
just very basic communication
since we fail
at anything complex as language.
I like simple things
and I like to be touched
and I wish it wasn’t too late to ask
if we couldn’t just combine
those two things.
We’d be really good
if we just fucked.

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16 February, 2011 at 15:38 (Uncategorized)

The notion that Promises last forever
And a sense of duty that wasn’t fashionable in the forties
The idea that you say what you mean
And a habit of saluting
All these things…they left with me
and now look at who they call ‘WAGS’.

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