“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.”
– E.A. Bucchianeri
I’ve always been looking
for empty spaces
spaces in your heart
spaces in your fleeting glance
to adjust mine
space next to you in the library,
an empty cozy corner in the party,
where the deafening noise is
calmed by your soothing voice
space next to you
on the commuter train
next to you in the bar
where I can sit and listen to all
the stories you have to say
I went to all the bars and the cocktails places
and looked for you in the half-filled drink
walked all the dark alleys
seeking for the company
I always looked for the spaces
between my fingers
to adjust yours
I always thought the curve of my body
in the night was like that
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“Oh, but darling, how can I bring
any light to your life if all I am
is darkness personified?”
I’ve been down here in this darkness for so long that I’ve forgotten what it means to be bathed in light. I’ve forgotten what it means to feel sunlight on my skin. And all the while, I’ve taken you for granted. As you hold me up and break your back in the process, I lash out when I feel like I’m drowning in the dark. How can I tell you how sorry I am for putting you through that? How can I bring any light to your life if all I am is darkness personified?
© Sarah Doughty
How do I hold you
in the light?
“My home was a ruin. And then
I met you and learned the difference
between heaven and hell.”
My home was a ruin. At least to me it was. Monsters lurked in every darkened corner, and the creatures that lurked in the night were more than shadows and wild imaginations going on hyperdrive. They were more than nightmares or a skinned knee from reckless playing. My home was my hell, only I didn’t know it then. I just knew there was never a place I could feel safe. And I often wondered if it was a fictional concept. And then I met you and realized what happiness and love truly feels like. So thank you for teaching me the difference between heaven and hell.
© Sarah Doughty
Thank you for always
reminding me that
there’s a difference.
Purgatory Inn — “Conversation with a Siren”
Always good company at the Purgatory Inn. Chess games are being played. Long and deep conversation being done. Purgatory Inn, never closes and always entertaining. Tonight I decide to hang with the lonely customers in the dark corners of the Inn.
I sat with a red hair beauty. She smiled at me, and she told me. Never appeal to a lover who is consumed with their own misfortune. The song of love is oppressed to the heart that had withered away. Fruitless love is a dead love.
Mistress night make men know boldness and zeal in love. They try to appease a woman alone hiding in the shadows. Woman hiding in shadows don’t want salvation. Their love demands great payment. Love doesn’t exist for the dark Angel.
She asked me. Where have you been lover? Love me long, love me little. Make the…
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A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Old stories become better with time.
My pretty lady friend with tattoos on her back and legs. She asked me. Do you like my tattoos? I smiled and I told her. I have four tattoos and each having purpose and meaning. I believe if you mark your body. Do it for logical reasons, maybe for a story, maybe for a memory?
She gave me a evil smile and she told me. I agree dear Poet. My tattoos have meanings. She lifted her black skirt up a little. She had a rosy red lip on her right side of her firm butt. She told me. This is a target for the lucky fellow I allowed to see. She pulled up the skirt higher showed me her flowers and rising vines from her pretty feet to stomach. She smiled and whispered. The vine…
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