An Effort At Prose

By Dei


My soul hopes that if my eyeballs stare long enough and my hearing ears
could take you in the way the cove takes the beating of waves, then maybe
someday our hearts will touch with a lightning force to cause blackouts.
And I'll be jolted back to life with the smell of burning hair and the thunder
of your voice will tickle my blood as it pumps dreams and sunshine into my brain.
Let the blaze brand me beautifully.

Please know, I'm not looking for a savior. No. That would only make me the wooden cross that burdens you while leaving splinters on your spine. Though I would nail you
to the sky so you could sit star-like and I could go on believing there was a point
to all this child like dreaming and wishing and hoping. And you'll look down on me
the way you always did, but this time your smile can light up my skin while I dance rhythmless.

Body shaking. The only sound I feel is your heart beating inside my own chest
and the heavy words that flow through my bones somehow lift the soul(s)
of my shoes with something I've heard better men call "grace".Please, Don't confuse
or misconstrue. I know these convoluted thoughts are amature abstracts at best. Paleolithic finger paint in "prose". If you would even call it that. But this is the only way I know to express everything I am and I have just enough left of me to hope.

I need you to know

That I want to set you on fire, but in a loving way. I only mean that I feel the need to burn you up and melt you down. To break down the unrelenting intensity of you like a fat and make it into soap. So that I can lather you up against my skin and bathe in your presence. Soaking you in. So maybe the next time I sit heartbroken and alone on a too long road and my legs have long since given out, my sweat will smell the way your breath did. And every time my brain tingles I'll know it's your whispers.

I'm trying to say how much I want you. Inside and apart of me. Because my body is begging to be crushed. Two souls would be too much and I want simply to combust
shattering the world with US.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2012 Nefarious
Published on Thursday, November 1, 2012.     Filed under: "Tribute" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

with love, a tribute to The Woman
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Comments on "An Effort At Prose"

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  • A former member wrote: "I would give you a map of where all the landmines on my property were, and part the razor wire so you could join me behind the treeline. I don't care if I ever see any of them again, but I could stare into your eyes for a long time. It's safe here, back behind the treeline. Can you hear me calling to you from across the river? Please come, hurry. There's not much time. The snipers will be back at their posts soon, and crossing will be risky. Please hurry to my heart..." ~Henry Rollins.

  • BetaWolfinVA On Wednesday, November 7, 2012, BetaWolfinVA (795)By person wrote:

    evil phone not letting me rate. well done... very well done Scholar

  • Magdalena On Saturday, November 3, 2012, Magdalena (615)By person wrote:

    An excellent piece of writing here, great imagery and wonderful expression. Well penned Astra.

  • FadedBlues On Thursday, November 1, 2012, FadedBlues (2169)By person wrote:

    ...I like the christ-ian metaphors. & the sense of recreating & absorbing. pleasurable reading...

  • dwells On Thursday, November 1, 2012, dwells (4285)By person wrote:

    Hardly an affront and hoping he feels the same way too, cheers and some wonderful imaginings!

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