Tag: love story

The Engineer

Posted on by RDP

White and soft — so, so white.
The badge, the tag, the sensation of bleach and clean, and iron, concrete, and walls.
Invisible fate; metal maw and melting bones, the frantic panic of the chest.
Smoke, the roaring beast,
squealing steam, and the rattle of throats; buried ghosts.

Red and burning — so, so red.
The hand, the scalding palm, the sensation of seat and fear, sky, world, and centuries.
Charged ingot, betrayer and thief, the frightful hurry of the poisoned pulse.
Breathe, the eyes,
pulling color, the fear of that greater dark,

Dashed heart, and the robbery of time.
Panting breath, sickened touch, and perpetual, dangerous love.

The Christian

Posted on by RDP

Golden neck, jeweled flash,
such dirt and religious plots.
The sweeping sky, look loft and about,
blue and feathered white.
Yours, the knitted brow, kissed by cool green stalks,
and I, floating as in the doldrums, the endless spin of nowhere.
Water laps, but not a bird cries, or a step makes.

They’re coming, love, they’re coming.

Run the black mud and rattle the heart,
a kiss in the dark.
Golden loop, dusty curls,
steel and swords and death.

The Priest’s Son

Posted on by RDP

Rolling, raspy tongue,
soaked in salty sweet, barreled amber.
Whiskey’d warrior; worn weaves,
and soft, the pelted shoulder.
Such severe darkness,
the lamenting and guarded notions; all that red-rimmed hazel.
Rough touch in the candle flicker,
fingertips and waists and teeth.
Upturned humor, scents of green and airy spaces.
Lead her over highlands and to loughs and within cold, lonely, and ancient stone.
Tartan soldier, bark your cry,
and into the mist and snow.

The Mage

Posted on by RDP

Stop talking.
Breeze against my neck, my hair.
Spells and chants and incantations and all.
Cloth folded over cloth — careful, dutiful.
Guardian, watch me.
Shoulder blades and back — smooth relish of the breast.
Keep yourself lonely and fading.
Pretend me away and chant words,
but nakedness in the front,
a private love song.

The Monk

Posted on by RDP

Quiver and dance, forest —
Clapping leaves and tinkling moisture.
Sun beams shouldering through autumn branches,
and colors warm like tightly woven threads.
The trudge of silver rings, leader, and a nervous, guilty heart.
Toes hold fast the sinking soil,
blue meets green and beg apology and longing.
These bodies, furnaces of worn, complex expectation and doubt –
draw near the silk and cotton.
A gentle ripple — snowflake voices, anxious lips, calloused hands, the singing sword.
Cover us, forest, and quiver and dance.

The Dream

Posted on by RDP

Up and up to the sky’s reach,
anxious, trepidatious hearts roll.

Expectation.

Blue and pink cotton candy sphere.
Twilight; intimate whispers; yearning expression.
The bustle so selfish and we …
we cling to the precariousness of a sun-warmed moon;
wrong and right.

Choices.

Stranger, I’m nothing but age and wear,
and you, the kiss so essential of resurrection.

The Contract

Posted on by RDP

Straighten the collar; accept the seat,
clasped hands, dark wood, damp ink.
Master of the course,
so uncertain, so wild the eye.
Hopes for fortune and light,
but suffering in the endless black.
Behind the curtain, a quick pulse,
and fingers in curls and laces.
Wait, the harpoon’s song, and so much red —
splintering wood, rushing salt.
But take her, in buttons and breeches,
in silk and wool.
Three corners in position.
The harbor without mercy sends her son.

The Ghost

Posted on by RDP

Whiskey over whiskey,
salty sprays.
Tiptoe the mundane,
and boots crush crabgrass.
Come into my view, my hopes,
that slow march, ranger,
and squint back the early sun.

Winds rush, fall breeze — winter’s warning.
Swirl the glass, molecules stir and breathe.
Heart beats the moment; waves thrum.
Vibrate the gentle meaning of lips, sweet ghost —
but what a day where the light shines home,
dancing in the world’s glass.
Whiskey over whiskey,
red embers.