Archive for January, 2014

25
Jan
14

Self Destruct

When the noise

Quiets down

And the voices

Get louder,

The Self Destruct button

Begins to itch

Again.

The desires grow,

Returning

Like an old friend,

From a dark past

With bad ideas

And the gift

Of persuasion.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 24, 2014

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24
Jan
14

I remember why I can’t forget

I can

Remember

A lot to things

About our

Us-

The feel of her

Skin

On my fingertips,

My tongue,

Or pressed against

My body,

Sweaty

And shaking.

I can

Smell her

On the winds

Of my memory-

Her favorite

Lotion

Mixed with

Sweat

And kisses

All over her

Body.

The feel of her

Teeth

Against my tongue

As it searched

For more,

And the smell

Of her

Hair

Filled my nostrils,

While my arms

Pulled her

Trembling body

Tighter against mine,

And her hot breath

Burned

My neck.

But mostly I remember her and her sweetly crooked smile, and the slightly bucked teeth that would appear below her upper lip when she grinned, or laughed her ever-so-slightly too loud laugh.

I remember

How

She made me feel-

Whether good or bad.

 

I remember why I can’t forget.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 24, 2014

23
Jan
14

Back seat

Scrambling

And fumbling

To find her

Skin

Beneath my fingertips,

Kissing

Her lips

Then her neck

And ears

And cheek

And then

Back to her lips,

Covered

With her hair

And her hurried breath,

Our teeth bumping

As our tongues

Search

For their partner,

While the breathing

Becomes more

Hurried

And excited,

With swelling

Anticipation

And bright red

Flushed cheeks,

Skin becoming hot

And covered

With perspiration,

While going nowhere

With great urgency,

Searching and yearning

For a crescendo

Of tangled limbs

And hearts beating

Skin to skin

In the dark-

Just once.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 23, 2014

23
Jan
14

Secret

She can’t possibly

Know the thoughts

In my mind

When I see her.

Luckily,

My thoughts

Are

Hidden away

Inside my head,

Concealed

By a veil

Of smiles

And polite nods.

She doesn’t

Know,

She can’t

Know

What my longing and desire for her still looks like.

It’s my

Secret.

I believe

It is,

I hope

It is.

My desire

Is still mine

Alone,

Or so I tell myself.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 23, 2014

20
Jan
14

Montreal

I wanted

To reach

For your hand

On the cobbled streets

That were not

Home

To either of us.

We walked

And talked,

Both of us

Thinking

The same thing

Differently-

Will he,

Should I,

What if,

Does she,

And then?

But we didn’t

Then,

Or after.

And yet

We have so many

Beautifully flawed

Memories-

You told me

About the tattoo

You would get,

We laughed a lot,

We shared a drink,

We hugged

And shook hands,

Awkwardly,

At the door to your room,

After walking

For hours,

Just to be together.

All for nothing,

But not entirely

Without meaning.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 20, 2014

 

20
Jan
14

I’ve stopped trying

I’ve stopped trying

To stop

Trying

And wanting

Things

To be different.

Things aren’t

Different

And I’ve accepted that,

Since I can’t

Change

Anything

But how I deal

With the reality

Of us.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 20, 2014

20
Jan
14

Fountain pen

There is a poetry

In the sound

Of the nib

Scratching

Across the page,

Bleeding

Its life

Onto the paper,

Leaving

A much more

Permanent

Record

Of its existence.

The stains

On my fingertips

Will wash away,

Eventually,

But

The words scribbled

In hurried urgency

Will remain,

Having soaked into

The fibers

Of the paper,

Remaining long after

The moment

Has faded

Away.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 20, 2014




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