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..and I heard that voice againA quiet whisper in the dark,
A noise upon the stair;
Once more haunts my memory
Of feelings in the air
The lush green fields and meadows
Under a sapphire sky;
Have leaked out of me drop by drop,
Left me bare and dry.
When I walk upto the stone,
My heart filled with sorrow and pain,
I find myself wishing that
I could hear that voice again.
The night before she left me
For real and for good,
I remember her against city lights,
As on the roof she stood.
I knew in that instant
That I could not reach her now;
Even though my heart ached,
I could not see how.
When I walk upto the stone
In the cold, stinging rain,
I find myself wanting to
Hear that voice again.
The rest of my long journey
I have spent alone;
Nothing has grown and bloomed;
None of seeds I've sown.
But now my time has come
As once more, with her, I lie,
Beneath the clouds of white,
Beneath the starry sky.
Now I lie beneath the stone
My heart free of that taint;
I looked all around me
And I heard that voice again.
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More