Love and Poetry

"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet."
~Plato

He Loves Me

He’s seen me without makeup
and still considers me flawless
plus 50 after pregnancy
he still found me sexy
his caress, his touch
never changed or subsided
always gentle, arousing
deliberate and anticipated
seven years later
he still makes me blush
flirting never dies
groping on the rise
attracted, like magnets
thou shall not repel
he’s from Mars
I’m from Venus
but he understands:
my need for affection, today
my need for space, tomorrow
most days I’m sparkling
on occasion, innocently ferocious
sometimes I blow up
he tenderly deflates me
the man who loves to spoil me
but won’t tolerate my mess
the only man
to effortlessly penetrate
my chest cavity
and cherish my heart
no question, our love is pure.

Dream Interceptor

There are times I find myself lost in reverie. My dreams are more than a neural process…but a connector to people, my emotions. It’s been said that dreams function like psychotherapy, “making connections in a safe place.” But there are times when dreams aren’t so safe…when dreams turn ugly. When I can’t wake up, I find myself praying for control, control over characters and the environment of the dream…the skill of a lucid dreamer. Perhaps, one day I will master this skill, but for now, I simply intercept…

“Claudia, you really have to stop showing up like this!” Kerry griped.

“I’m sorry. I know, I know. I really can’t control it,” I explained.

“It’s always at the most inopportune time!” Kerry continued as she unloosed her arm from Chris’ hold.

Kerry looked at Chris, closed her eyes, and said, “OK, just one more kiss.” Chris looked at her and then at me and then back at her, totally confused. Kerry opened her eyes and said exasperatedly, “OK, bye, Chris.”

And just like that, Chris vanished. Kerry scrunched her face at me and said, “Umm, you can go now, too. This one is a complete wash.”

When she scrunched her face up like that, she reminded me so much of our mother. Kerry and I are fraternal twins. She looks more like our mom, long, jet black hair with olive skin, short, petite stature. Whereas, I’m a clone of our father: long, dark brown hair, olive skin, and tall. Differing features but definitely sisters.

“You know it’s not that easy, Kerry,” I said.

“Fine,” Kerry said, crossing her arms. “We’ll just both sit here until…” Kerry’s thought was interrupted by a sudden ominous darkness. Water started seeping from under her closed door…and fast. I began to panic, as did Kerry. Her eyes widened and her thoughts were clear: We can’t swim!

“Kerry, what the hell?” I screamed.

“This is reminiscent of a scene from Titanic. I should know; I fell asleep watching it.” Kerry cried.

I ran for the door and of course, it was locked. We banged and banged, in the dark. The water continued to rise. Our clothes were soaked and I could hear Kerry begin to choke. The water had risen up to her nostrils.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Around 6:00 AM, the alarm clock started to wail. I glanced over at Kerry. She was still sound asleep. I silenced the alarm clock and tapped Kerry on the shoulder. She gave me a snotty look and then we started laughing nervously…uncontrollably.

“OK, it’s funny now, but it wasn’t a few minutes ago!” Kerry admitted.

“I had no idea you had the hots for Chris. Since when?” I asked.

“I can’t answer that question because I didn’t really know either. Funny, the feelings that emerge in my subconscious,” Kerry mused.

“The dream world can be like that sometimes. In the future, nix the tragedy romance movies before going to bed. At least until I master the art of lucid dreaming!”

My Eternal

Looking for answers
that once seemed so far away
right in front of me
water falls from the sky
thirsty for something new
released from a prison
guarded by demons
taking your hand
that holds the key
to a wounded heart
that needs healing
the pain dissolves
slowly
you are perfect
my thoughts will one day
mirror yours
walking with you
hardly a sacrifice
forever yours
my soul.

Teenage Woes: Camaraderie

We’ve travelled this path
once before, twice even…maybe three times
Who’s counting?
Never one for mind-numbing streams,
I preferred currents.
Riddled with optimism, dripping with bravery
We didn’t swim.
Across a floating log we crossed, barefoot.
Each time I lost my balance:
I stumbled. She laughed. Into the water I fell.
I stumbled. She pushed. Into the water I fell.
I stumbled. He watched. Into the water I fell.
Same scenario. Different person. Distinct outcome.
Never the one I wanted.
Here I am again,
on this floating log called life, faltering…
Only, this time I’m alone.
Into the water, I fell not.
Across this log, I knew I would cross.
But, I never wanted to do it alone.
Yearning for someone to hold my hand
instead of breaking my heart.