Oh hey, I made this from a JRR Tolkien poem. Have a listen and tell me what you think.
Solace is the darkness when your blinds are closed.A car drives by and slanted line shadows are cast up on your wall just for you to see.
Only for a second.
Comfort becomes a dip in your mattress. Shaped by your body weight and unrestrained thoughts.
Grins are maps that crescent half round your face. Light depth grooves made for tracing with gentle fingers.
Sheets fold you up, half naked with your foot hanging out. The fabric smells of lavender, simplicity.
Warmth comes when the cold arrives. A cheap unit blasting. Burning my eyes as I sit too close thinking of the shape in my bed.
Lines tend to the things that stay. Arms straight up. Fingers spread letting shiny things slip from the angles between them.
Breeze. I look over your way. You aren’t looking at anything. Face tilted up. Eyes closed. Smelling.
Wheat grass waving. Looking across, it moves like an ocean of dull sunlight. It reminds me of those sheets you like.
Smooth is the fabric blowing in front of a window. Open and yielding to the breeze that you’re smelling.
Burbling comes from the tea over flowing. Hissing and hot on a red ring eye.
Glisten turns into a stream of light, finding its way through the slants of my blinds.
I see it only for a second.
the lotr cast and their endless affection for one another
I am not roses or Lillie’s
that are to be picked
put into a vase
that sit perfectly
on your counter.
I am an unruly valley sunning between two pre dawn mountains, growing sporadically with red mountain flowers, wire-tangle
things that prick your fingers.
Bringing out a bead of red blood
that you will lick away.
I am not a tamed animal
that comes to you
I am a fox, sly and adept
in the skill of sneaking.
A wolf that prowls in wonder,
silver fur turning to the shadows.
I am a bird, uncaged.
Flying for the hell of it.
I am not held by a religion.
I am not fighting to stay pure
I am your lover
when I choose.
Sweet eyed, mess of skin.
I kiss your forehead
leaving my impression to be remembered.
Because you will
I am the faint fall tinged flames blazing at your cheeks.
And the low smoldering coals
that hiss and hatch open my own reflection in your eyes.
I am the wild thing that billows beyond your grasp.
I am the fleeting speck of light
that you saw glisten
on your front porch wind chime.
I am your challenge of propriety.
The gust that howls at your window pane.
Urging you to fling it open,
just to smell the strawberry tinged air of winter ending.
I am the rain that swells your homes wooden bones.
Cracking the frame so your front door opens just..
Let the damp settle on your skin
and cling to your hair.
I am the jagged rocks edge
that the ocean throws
it’s self upon.
I am vining strong roots
underneath the pavement
that you walk on.
Do you see my blossom?
It broke apart that black fake dirt.
I am a movement.
A mist amidst a still forest floor.
You are a drizzle and I am a hurricane.
Flooding to wash you clean.