4. by Merridith Allen

Talk to me through painted glass.
Your image matched
To the ebb and flow of secrets inside the colors
Blue                 family
Position waning into sky
Red                  heart
Struck down, materially tied
Orange             Fire
You and me
A soul and mate fighting
At the church of lust and longing
On each side of the tinted windows.

Speak not of ‘belonging.’
Belong is a word that tells the story of musk and lavender.
Our first night
Opening myself          you crawling into spaces between atoms

I would be yours still  if you could shatter compressed sand.
But oh, your fists –
Disfigured blobs behind a colorful silk screen.
And where are your lips?
Thick                           That smoldered my mouth
Strawberries on my tongue.

Do you know I could have died with your fingers
Hugging                       Deep slippery places
Perfumed treasures.

I would have gone
Willingly                     beckoned by you.

You…                          these visions
Dancing in places                    beyond time and space
And the colored glass              separating us
Yes, I love you still.
Or did I ever…?
Have I known love                  that I’ve known you?
Or have I been drunk?
Drugged           lust playing violently
Harp strings of my heart.

 

About Merridith Allen

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