Because that’s how he held me

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holding-hands

His grip was strong,

but tender,

and that’s how he held me,

firm in his grasp, but tender in his emotion.

But it wasn’t just how he held me,

it’s how he saw me.

His look was beyond flesh,

it looked past imperfections.

He just saw me,

for who I was,

under the shroud of my physical form.

He looked into me and,

as his hand held mine,

in that frozen moment,

I became lost in him.

His grip was strong, but tender,

and in that grasp,

now lies my heart.

(image credit)

I just wanna know

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hands

If my hand brushed up against yours,

would your fingers curl around mine,

would you reach for my touch

as easily as I long for yours,

and let your thumb

gently caress my skin?

If I kissed you,

would our lips slightly touch

before you turned away,

or would your face lean into mine,

absorbing every ounce of the passion

I want to share with that kiss?

If I said I love you,

would you immediately build a wall

to keep me at a distance,

or would you pull me close

happy to share my emotion

because you feel it too?

If I fell into you,

would your arms catch me,

would my body be met by the warmth of your flesh,

or would I awake, once again, from my dream

wondering if you really exist.

I just wanna know.

 (image credit)

Love lost, such a cost – Trifecta Challenge

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hands

He used to reach for my hand in the dark.  Even though he was asleep, his fingers would seek mine and become entwined.  He was an angel on Earth.  Now he sleeps eternally.

~~

(image credit: fineartamerica.com)

Written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge:  This week we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about love gone wrong.  But we’re asking that you not use any of the following words:

love
sad
tears
wept
heart
pain

A poetic interlude

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I used to write a lot of poetry.  It was one of the original demons that stole my sleep.  Now it has epic battles with the monster that is helping fuel this blog.  Although both are headstrong and very willing competitors, the poetry demon won today.    This was the result of the battle.

Under a Blue Moon

I fit my frail hand into his as we gazed upon the moon,

the beauty of its reflection, comforting like a warm wind in June.

As the pale blue light enveloped us, we stood as one, unmoving,

engaging in a silent vow of love that would never need proving.

The stars returned our glances, embracing a life of their own,

smiling upon us as a distant loon lent music of eloquent tone.

A blend of harmonious voices, echoed the cry of the loon,

as we stood fixed, ever enchanted, by the intensity of the moon.

The night air swirled around us, laughing as it tickled the leaves.

The song of the frogs was found in the night and carried upon the breeze.

The rippling of the playful waves as their longing to touch the shore,

gave voices to the rhythm of sounds, sharing a tranquil rapport.

The magical songs in the blue moon light quieted ever so slightly,

as the glow of the moon and the array of stars ceased to shine so brightly.

His grip on my hand remained tender and sweet as he turned to look in my eyes.

A night of feelings shared by lovers under a blue moon and starry skies.