As I survive a major loss
Black as the night…
I watched her dance alone to the holy Jazz songs. Simmering words in the song make her body move slow and easy to the songs. I know to keep my distance. She was so damn beautiful and I knew. If you dance with a woman, who heart is gone, her eyes are cold and deadly. Love is myth and tale to her. Better to be a bystander who won’t learn the taste of the sweet warm lips and the entanglement of legs, arms and skin.
When you dance with the Devil. The Devil always win. She came to me and she whispered. Not dancing with me Johnnie tonight. Is it fear or wisdom? I’m lonely my sweet man, baby, honey and dear. Please dance with me, whisper me a sexy story. Where love is sweet and forever. Make my skin bleed with need, make my body…
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Black as the night…
Love is sweet and love can be so deadly. I knew Jenny was so damn beautiful. Youthful eyes and woman perfect curves and valleys, make a wise man become a tomfoolery in love.
Her wanting eyes wanted everything and she was free-flowing not caring where she fell and who she took down with her. I allowed her into my apartment in late October. She brought some wine coolers with her and her smile as sweet as the Fall honey.
She asked me. Dear Johnnie. Can I stay the night? She went to her knees and she wrapped her arms around me and she whispered. Damn the lonely nights. I feel so alone. My heart is black as the night and I need someone to make me feel wanted and needed. I don’t want love. I need hands that know what to do. I need lips that…
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Black as the night…
I told her. Everybody knows you have a black heart and I know more than most. You smell like like wildflowers in the early Spring and you talk so sweet. You could steal a man’s soul and he wouldn’t know. I have loved you forever and a day.
She smiled and she whispered. Poetry man, order me a double shot of the Black Velvet whiskey. Maybe you can whisper me some sweet poetry, some kind love words on the empty dance floor. Maybe I will pretend I believe them?
She wore her short black silky dress, showing milky white tender legs. She tossed her shoes to the floor and she put her bare feet into my lap. I caressed them and I told her. I have seen you nude, bare and free. And I loved your fiery gaze, those coffee brown eyes penetrated my mind, my heart…
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I found her again at the hard metal club in Austin and she was dressed in her black skirt and her favorite black blouse. I stay at a distance and I watched her dance with your friends. I loved watching her bare legs move with the music and the joy in her face. She didn’t see me till the song was done and she came to me. She asked me. Are you stalking me dark poet? Maybe I want you to stalk me?
I laughed at her words and I told her. I am just a observer of perfect beauty and a perfect painting for my eyes. I adore when your blue eyes are dancing with happiness and you are content. You are the most beautiful girl in Austin. She smiled and she told me. I ain’t beautiful Johnnie, I am me. I show you real face, I…
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I sometimes hide my eyes
Behind darkened glasses
Care to look at the world
Through rose colored flashes
I watch the colors blend
Wishing it could be like this
Throughout the world, again
Hippies spreading love
Peace and understanding
So tired of the ones, who
Just keep on demanding
I will not hide forever, no
Behind this tinted glass
Cause I’ll never be the one
To follow all, en masse
March to the beat of a different drummer
I refuse to ever become just a number….
“And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
I made these images at Descanso Gardens, a 150-acre botanical garden in La Cañada Flintridge, California.
Come Enjoy This!!
Poetry has arms to reach beyond borders stretch across isles swim channels of shame while handing our fresh hankies for tears of lost love Poetry has arms to hold, comfort, and allow for all to be felt the sharp, the cut wide open with acceptance Poetry pushes no one away All are welcome through this doorway © Ali Grimshaw 2021 Come write with us. Self-Compassion Through Poetry: Writing Circle Fri, May 7, 2021 10:00 - 11:30 AM PDT Click HERE for more information Let me hold space for your voice.