Oh..

Present
to myself..
Truth.
Present
for myself..
Courage
to see it
at last.

A Little Love

Not too large

My embrace, nor long but

Just enough to show

Some affection.

My smile ready and

Warm but not too full.

The pretence continues

As it must like handrails on the stairs;

Smooth guidelines

Safe within rigidly set

City limits.

The glance not lingering

Too long lest

Somehow underneath friendly paint

You see that it’s just

A show.

For while the carnival obscures the silence I must

Pretend that I love you

Only a little.

Take me not into quiet woods where

Our eyes may meet unshadowed by observation..

Oh bring me not to the dance floor

While they play the Lover’s Waltz!

No, don’t take my hand in a moment

That has no appointed end

And ask me to pretend

That I love you

Just

A little.

From Lottie © Jan 2013

Violent Grace

Love is violent grace

The sparks of its axe fly from the whetstone to the strains of Debussy

With calculated abandon

It murders the heart with swift blows

Only to rebirth it in petals and Honey

I suffer its multiple reincarnations on my journey to

The nirvana of perfect devotion

Love wears Velvet mittens and spurs

To flay the soul with tender Kisses

That burn through every layer of skin

My heart knows the gentle destruction of love’s chisel

As it chips away at All resolve

And carves me into its pure state of peace

Remarkably Whole in the aftermath of an onslaught

By the crooning banshee of amorous whispers

I wonder that I still breathe

Love my Prayer

You my confession

Awaiting Freedom in the binding of adoration’s blessing.

From lottie Jan 2013©