A world of light
Where roses burn, soft petals lie scattered,
Exhibiting the bane of worldly weight
In their clinging to colours, damned to fade.
For a second there, I thought love mattered,
However, I see this miserly state
As proof of its expendable design.
Once purpose has been served, I am afraid
What love established, life will see battered,
Until all there's left is a ruined slate.
However, that rose was never betrayed;
She never was claimed in ‘forever mine’;
She never did ‘want’, let alone too much.
She withers with grace, for she does not pine
A world of light, vivified by your touch.
---
16-8-2022, M.A. Tempels ©
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You have the power to calm me or excite me with just a brush of your hand.
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All my grief says the same thing— this isn't how it's supposed to be. And the world laughs, holds my hope by my throat, says: but this is how it is.
Fortesa Latifi, The Truth About Grief
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“What if I told you I’m incapable of tolerating my own heart?”
Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
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"Your body's a temple," its more like the abandoned 19th century chateau that is home to the morally grey villain
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How wonderful is it that at some point humans discovered we don't have to shelter from the rain, but can dance in it
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And she carves her hips into mine, like she's Michelangelo and I'm something holy
Alex Thomas, from, “Anatomy of a Hookup”
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Unconsidered
I knew you were it;
From the second I saw you
I knew you were it;
Something short-circuited
And at the same time
Everything fell into place.
I knew
I would love you forever,
But I loved you like a kid, I did;
I just never considered
One of us could stand to
Ever lose a love like this;
I never once considered I could lose you.
I never once considered you would leave,
Until you did.
---
10-4-2022, M.A. Tempels ©
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Don’t let anyone try to tame the wild in you. Don’t let anyone take that away from you. It’s what makes you beautiful.
A very old piece from 2017 that I redid.
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“ I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death”
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She asked me what my favorite color was.
I looked at her. “Brown” I said.
She smiled. “Brown is warm, like coffee”
Yes. Brown is warm. But not like coffee. Like your skin every time I caress it. Like your eyes every time I meet them. Like your hair every time you’ve spent the afternoon under the sun. Brown is warm, like you.
But I couldn’t say it.
“yes, like coffee.”
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