The lost mole

He didn’t realize that he had strayed from his subterranean domicile until a hand-less yellow stick burned his molish nose. He turned his head blindly towards the unseen sun, a large baking pot, and hid his head in the darkness of the burrow he emerged from. The sun, this novice giver of warmth, warmed the hairs on his rear end. He wiggled in his comfort and fell asleep.It was only when a chilled quick draft shot under his hind legs, punching his chin, did he start awake. He stumbled around, to find his warmth-giver departed…long departed for the grass beneath him had also cooled. Sniffling, the lost mole thought something like this: Well the darkness from which I was born, was a constant friend, although cold-hearted earth was her soul-mate, she never left me alone. This new ‘friend’ I have made is a sly one, she slips away just when I entrust my back to her. To the one that lasts, I shall return to.” 

But when he recoiled into the moonless dark, and found his constant shiver-inducing companion, he longed for nothing more than radiance. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had returned in search of him, or if she even loved him the way he had come to adore her. When the curiosity and yearning had filled his entire being, he made his way back to the surface, desperation for her driving him on. He broke through the Darkness, though she tried to make him stay with her familiarity and her incessant dark ways. He strove towards his new love, wondering…forever worrying that she wouldn’t be there …but praying to his God that she was.

And she was.

She bathed him in her rays for hours, as if her only thought was of him , his fury body and hairless face. He thought : I MUST  be the one she loves. Feel how she caresses me, and heats up my tender insides, dispelling all of the coldness therein. I love her. 

But again ,she left. He waited for her, though his heart ached in her absence. But she always came back , sometimes though, as time progressed, her warmth seemed reluctant or hardly there. But he stayed , forever longing for the warmth she had given in the beginning.

Never did he remember her, the darkness, who stayed where he could find her, even after he left. He was a boy-like mole.

Hands up

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He shouted, cigarette resting on his lips , as his girl watched. Her blush rose to her cheeks. She knew well that boys like him would never grow up. They were the Peter Pans Of reality. They would never think themselves too old to prove their masculinity… point a generational gun at another man’s head. He was the type of boy that promised to kill , with the kiss of silver bullets to flesh. His kisses were frequent and arbitrary , but always worth it to him.

His girl watched, leaning on his stolen cadillac shuddering yet fascinated. He was a powerful beast- disloyal to everyone, candid, deluded, young, pretty , and ambitious..in his own way. He was the only person she doted over, though he rarely told anyone that that she was his.

But still  she stayed. The allure of his nonchalance and his fervent fury about life beguiled her. He was perfect danger. So she stayed leaning on the door of the caddy as he blew death into his victim’s throat.

Old love

The clock spun hundreds of times in a minute. Her eyes dulled and his muscles diminished.  The auerole of umber curls that once halo-ed her full cheeks had turned to snow. His back bowed under the weight of  their world. Years of work tatooed their soft supple skin. Hands like canes perched on tired knees and eyes drifted open and close  as the days of death crawled on. No more sporadic bursts of energy to brighten days, just subtle movements slowed by the chains of a damned or lovely afterlife.

Con Amoure

I tell you that the sun sets on your eyelids and the moon rises on your lips. The wind shivers in your arms. Trees bend at your kiss. The ground quakes when you laugh and lava erupts when you frown. Rain falls gently as you cry and thunder strikes when you bleed. Mountains shift when you cringe and clouds depart when smile. You motivate my world; make it spin forever.

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A September morning

My twin’ s music blares out from her speakers. It entrances and annoys me simultaneously. The voices promise love, yet I know I have nothing to gain from the quickly beating rhythm of my incarnate heart. So , I ignore the meticulously whispered promises, like a priest ignores the omnipresent desires of his loins to germinate. I separate my self from my ears, so my soul is untouched by desire this early morning.
Because…
I’m heading to a place where pleasure is taken and given for granted. Where hearts break and mend in seconds..And fulfilment  of  desire is the currency …the middle of young conquets and paramours. A temple where the mind is infiltrated by thoughts unlike any other..the kinds that are pleasuring , teasing and sorrowful, deceiving. The ones that lead to a haven of orgiastic passion.

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That everlasting First..to ScorPion

I loved you so intensely then, that it will forever seep into my now.I will never truly untwine my heart from its adoration of you. I’ve loved you so long and hard its unforgettable. You are the most innocent love I will ever know, my first. The residue of my love remains like mildew on the walls of my ever quickly beating heart. You will never comprehend adequately the extent of my desire for your total happiness and wholesome prosperity. I love you irrevocably and fluctuatingly.

P.S. ~ Its possible to be completely over someone yet forever in love with them.

The antidote to her hunger

When she awoke, the sun was on her back and facing her was the boy she loved. She closed her eyes, savouring the warmth, and would have remained so, had her stomach not growled. She peeked out from one eye, at her sleeping boy, but he was already looking at her. He kissed her forehead, said , “I have the antidote for your hunger” and rolled out of bed. He returned with a plate of pancakes stacked high, that he put on her stomach and poured  hot maple syrup over.
 

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