Tag: creative writers

Vulnerable

~ SW Altair ~ 8 Comments

When I came close
and climbed on top of you;
when I pressed myself deeply
into you, our lips, almost touching…

your face held the same expression
of an infant as he saw the lowering
of a milk bottle. Hunger; excitement;
and also fear, as if the hand that held
the bottle would suddenly disappear. 

That was the moment I saw
you, at your most beautiful,
lying beneath me, soft eyes
under the moonlight. A soul
who surrenders himself
to be satiated by another
is so easy and impossible to hurt.

Hey

~ SW Altair ~ 13 Comments

Remember that night we sat on your doorsteps 
talking after the party. Your hair was longer 
back then; I had wine stains on my sundress. 
You said it felt good to be here, and I 
laid my head on your shoulder. Remember 
we were laughing. Remember we laughed
so hard that even the sky chuckled,
and then the clouds parted,

and love, 
raindrops, and lips 
fell.

Still

~ SW Altair ~ 7 Comments

When he kissed you slowly;
when he called you baby;
when he held your hand and
carefully traced his thumb
over the back of your hand;
when he pulled you close
and said, ‘stay, we have so much time.’

 These were the moments,
small, quiet, euphoric moments
that look liked love, felt like love,
that could almost be love.
But every night when you fell
asleep, your heart remained still;
It didn’t ache nor flutter;
It didn’t hope nor despair.  

So you know, you know, oh
you must know,
it never was love.

Time of Evening

~ SW Altair ~ Leave a comment

After work she went to the store
to pick up coffee filters and diapers,
a carton of eggs and 
a bag of day-old raisin bread. 
The tomatoes were on sale that day,
At the canned goods aisle she forgot 
what she needed to get from there.
Was it cream of mushroom or baked beans?
She stood there quietly for a long while, 
trying to remember,
how did she end up here?

Back home there are dishes 
to be washed, trash to be taken out.
A small child crying.
A man who pretends not to hear.
And the sun is quietly disappearing
behind its own purple haze.

Two grocery bags, 
heavy as iron in her arms, 
and she was miles
and miles away from home.