Veritati

Unexpected at best, when for moments met in silver boxes descending, enclosed in warm compression. And though such collision should have been suspected, being both rare and reoccurring, we were unprepared to take it in-- and so it still felt like a coronary hijacking, a jolt upon sighting, except each instance with a silver lining-- that they, inadvertent, unknowing, lured and drew upon senses, bringing closer with misguided glances. And while there was chance to exchange a word, what catches tongue is a thumping prolonged in throat, by an irony of coincidental juxtaposition in same place once noted to annihilate lips. And this very thought now prohibits the raising of sight from floor, while veritably provoked by hazelnut eyes with glints of topaz inside, burnt sienna hair, and almond skin, which could only have been kindled during harvest time, a sense of morality built upon purest bay sides, now standing with back against steel trimmings, with mahogany leather strapped like weapon across shoulder, a modern celtic warrior with the brewing burn of crimson torch engraved on inner being, holding their technological trappings against carnation colored threading, a chimera sewn into thoughts pulsing, and mouth emitting tones that gushed forth slow motion, like molasses flowing out on great hills, glistening from a distance. Still we focused in with subtle resistance, in an attempt to restrain our receptive existence-- for this is how we have kept it, an infinite masquerade intended. And to those who have asked in the past how these musings were crafted, whether these incidences, these figures enthralling, were figments of the imagination, like ingredients from dreams and other mystical factions, or whether they were woven from truth's blazing fabric-- I can only claim that the poetry of one's heart, while sometimes jumping, bolting, and spastic, takes from all parts, both the outside world and inside wealth, and from therewith, a symphony is drafted-- so it is truth filtered then displayed through ambiguity's rose colored, yet somehow blatantly opaque glasses, a place that keeps us protected. And even when we stand in clarity knee deep, we become persistently distracted when certain beauty lies before us, submissive, and raids us in ways that we couldn't dismiss it, as we went down with them, smothered in good intent. With one side of the face hidden, yet grazed with confessions, and the other persistently playing on the pretenses that we made, contemplations laced with vehemence that we dare not let escape, we witnessed overwhelmed with a coyness of which others were unaware, wishing to have the courage to just  brazenly stare. But once released, we kept jaunting ahead, for deo ac veritati were sacred kept. Yet, truth be told, did not forget the mesmeric vision of how like territorial tiger they tread, igniting a rushing, blushing straight to the head, a lingering like the fragrance of crushing carnations coming from my bed-- all stemming from being held in silver boxes, descending, zeal reflecting, presence unexpected, the kind that set five senses melting-- yet don't dare ask, for this mouth is never telling...

 

 

Intensity

had they secretly peered with intensity when pulled we curtains reluctantly? did they longing fall upon their knees, beholding threshold while we withheld keys? did our charcoal ink dark thoughts conceal, keeping the revelations they did duly seek? would they seep inside our mind to feel, the dreamscapes we so slealthfully weave? or will quiet passing of a message discreet, leave them with quandaries of infatuations unceased?