Archive for February, 2016

22
Feb
16

I’m Waiting

I’m waiting

For the day

That the tears

Of joy

Once again

Outnumber

The tears

Of sadness. 

I’m waiting 

For calm

To return,

And bring

Sleep

Along with it.

I’m waiting

For a warm body

Next to me

In bed again,

Wanting

The same things

I want

And need.

I’m waiting 

To believe

In hope 

Again,

Without feeling

Like a fool. 

I’m waiting

For a lot of things

Without much

Belief in believing. 
Timothy Vance Jackson

February 22, 2016

21
Feb
16

Always and Forever

All

My life,

I’ve told myself

That

Love is permanent-

Possibly capable

Of change,

But unending,

Always

Flowing,

Indestructible.

Love was

Always

The one constant

In my life

That could

Survive

The realities of existence,

The end

Of relationships

And marriages,

The separation

Of bodies.

Like a sunrise

Always

Promised a sunset,

Regardless of what happened

In the hours between,

Love

Had promised

It would always

Be there

For me.

The Pisces dreamer in me believed each breathless whisper, each soft kiss, every touch of bodies in the dark or in the sun, each promise of “always” and “forever”, all the “for better or worse” commitments.

It didn’t matter

How many times

It proved to be untrue,

Because

I believed

In my soft heart

That

I would find it

One day,

Finally

Experiencing the fulfillment

Of all those promises

Made with tangled limbs

And sweaty passion.

The death

Of an ideal,

Is one of the cruelest

Lessons

Of a sensitive soul.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 20, 2016

15
Feb
16

Valentine Desire

I want 

Her

Body

Pressed to mine, 

Beneath my fingers,

Wrapped tightly

In my arms, 

Trembling,

And naked.

I need 

To feel 

Her

Skin

Covered

In sweat

And goosebumps,

As she shivers

From my touch

And kisses. 

I ache

To hear

Her

Breathing

In my ear, 

Her warm

Breath

Against my neck,

He voice

A whisper

Between moans

And gasps.

I must

Store the memories

Away

As nourishment

Between the moments

When I can

Have

Her

Again,

Savoring each 

Recollection

With great detail,

Reliving 

Each 

Breathless 

Spasm

As if the memory

Were action

Itself.
Timothy Vance Jackson

February 14, 2016




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