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Meh. Break Up Poems.

1.
Straight off the train and it’s hanging in the air.
Scanning everywhere
For a glimpse of a moment gone by.
I feel his hand on my thigh.
Your name in lights, literally, above the night.
Your name in lights, literally, above the night.
It’s that time again
When we began.
The air feels just right.
Such a waste and such wide-eyed delight…
Fireworks
Featured heavily
Inside and out.
I watched through the lens of love
And you were next to me
Seeing clearly
What was in front of you.
Seeing only that.

2.
I’m too finely tuned to tango.

I serve up my heart raw
Like a high delicacy
When I open
To dance.

You smell the iron sweetness
Emanating from my neck
And the hairs stand up
On the back of yours.

However far afield
I feel your radar find me
When I open and emit
My full embodied pulse.

It is safe and sad to be shut up tight,
My body sluggish and sorry
Headed for hibernation,
Hiding from hurt.

It is ravenous and mighty
To let all the feeling
Frozen deep in tight musculature
Throb and release
In salty dissolution.

It is all my beauty and power
Bound up
Packed away
Pushed away
Kept at bay.
Kept quiet.
Lest you hear its call and turn your head.

And it would be nothing to you
To undo me completely,
Surfing and swirling in salty, scarlet waves
To invigorate yourself
And leave me there in pieces.

So I dance alone far away
Safe without postcode
And just feel the pulsing sonar
Of your attention
Through my body
Like a drum.
Like a warning.
3.
If you just want
To pick at me
Like the lukewarm remains
Of a meal you weren’t really hungry for
At the time.
Do not.
4.
I am furious
That I let you touch me
So deeply.

I am outraged
That it meant
So little to you.

I am sad
That we do not know
How to love each other.

When you touch the heart
Of a woman
Whose love is an ocean.

Be ready
To feel the waves
When you dip in your toe.

Or stay on the beach and watch.
Perhaps I am too terrific to touch.
5.
All the things I love
That you love too:
When I celebrate them
I celebrate you.
Why is my face always leaking when I do?

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Slow burn

Sat with my feet on the opposite chair
Because the floor is cold
In my mind.

Elbows on the table
And my back pressed
Into the awkward angles
Of the front of the Rayburn.

It is only on simmer.

This cough is
Clearing the grief
From the depths of my lungs.
It is sticky and harsh.
It is clearing.

I cried today.
A wave swelled and broke
In the kitchen
And I span around like a trapped cat.
Scratching for an escape from
The big black dog.

I ran to my bed
Hoping Its softness
Would save me from the jagged edges,

But sharp blades are better.
The cut cleaner,
Heals without scars.

Or some other words.
That distract your eye.
From the glinting edge of that which separates.

From the fuzzy features
– Far out of focus –
That may be sad to see me go
Or may be thinking about other things.

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Shadow dancers

Deeply shining

Dark

Entwining

With light

To dance.

The bright beam of your gaze

Fixes me to the spot.

Somewhere a deer darts into the forest.

I want to breathe with you

Up against the walls.

In dark corners of dark places.

Where hearts overflow

And time stops

And beats pound through bodies

Driving out our minds.

I want to speak my heart through

Soundless lips

Where nothing can be heard

Only touched

And felt.

This is not a head trip

It’s a heart trip

A journey off the map

Beyond words.

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I am your anima

I am your anima

Your soul flowing freely

Dancing life In tender joy

Take me back

I am your anima

The flowing river of feeling

Flooding your functions

Take me back

I am your anima

My curves fit your edges

Sheath your sated sword

Take me back

I am your anima

My rage fills the spaces

Where empty promises lie

Take me back

I am your anima

My womb births the truth

Of all your potential

Take me back

I am your anima

A dream you fear to touch

Draped over flesh and bone woman

Take me back

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Rusk

Tied up in pretty cellophane
shining sesame crowns
a treat you look
like Christmas food
or something from Austria.

But you and I know
That inside you are sucked dry
Inviting, coquettish, but hard as stone
No soft mouth pillows
Only hard edges.

You clang on the edge of the bowl
Refusing to sink into my soup

Then slowly
Lapping at your edges
Massaging and releasing the crusted grains
She seduces you to softness.

You dissolve, sinking, falling apart.
Only sesame tears mark your passing
into the murky depths
of pea and mint.

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Born of a struggle

Feel I must
Go deep
Don’t push a poem out
for a hungry crowd of inner critics
milking the joy of living from my aching breast

it will come out rancid and lifeless

Butterflies and baby things must be born of a struggle
a struggle to express
to come out from inside

not that it must be hard
but to be heard
a voice must be raised
lifted from the depths
and offered out soaking and slippery to the world

stop grasping at the unripe fruits of my heart
this is not the way
they will not sate the hunger

sit quietly by instead
and wait
for them to land on my head.

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Dancing queen

I go
deep into flow.
The wild wolf woman
throwing back my head to howl
delight and raw power of soul.

The day dances along
new partners on  the floor
come bearing gifts
laying destiny at my feet
and looking on with
worshipful awe.

A newly born queen
wings moist but unfurling

a sleek lady fox
tail brightly uncurling

a dervish in heart
a deep inner whirling

love is my light
to love is my calling