Morning Dove

Aleigha Kely

If, when counting colossal breaths,
the symmetry proves
too much, call down to me the
ways you’d like to further vanish.
Take me as a place you’d
travel to, when the swallows

go. All I can know about
you surfaces briefly, as if caught
in some oblivion. Some mornings,
I wake to gentle breath, and think in
soft touches, wonder where your
mind goes each night.

I could keep reaching for certainty
in response to this
grow-old-with-me,
but why land there? Let’s
step out somewhere more
blue-evoking, or bend the

river north. It isn’t
too important to decide
where to build the farm,
or the house with exposed wood;

the ceiling fan turns slowly above me.
I picture linens rippling in gentle
heat. Somewhere far away, a morning
dove perched on the moss fence
sings his holy tune.

View original post

Love Me in a Different Language

If you’ve forgotten how to love me, mi amor, then please recall the words that once upon a time were softly sung to you,

that were crooned so sweetly at your mothers breast in the land that bore your father and his father before him.

Draw near to me, amor, and we’ll map our bodies with the sounds of passion,

where we’ll learn to love anew in your mother’s tongue, passed down from generation to generation.

Let us ink our hearts in nuances of sun-baked streets and moonlit trysts
in dialects that knew of love and loss long before our stars were lit,

that echo still of golden skin, and raven hair, and lips that taste of briny seas.

If you’ve forgotten how to love me, mi amor, let us learn to love again in languages unspeakable.

It is said that one changes personalities to subconsciously reflect the language that is being spoken.

Once Upon a Silver Tongue

I sharpen my teeth on all the words I keep from you,
rolling them to and fro in my mouth,
tasting every nuance,
every cadence,
so that even if they do escape
they are smooth as glossy pearls.
I cut my tongue when they gallop up my throat
demanding to be released
and I’ve no choice but to choke them back,
slicing my throat to ribbons on their descent, on every jagged crest and
uneven curve.
But even in their wake,
for you
I still bleed silver.

 

Addictive Poison

You weave around me with the grace of a swordsman,
only your weapon of choice is your words.
What a lethal dance we engage in,
parrying,
striking with focused precision,
sliding that unbearable hurt between my ribs with a lovers skill.
How beautifully I fall apart before you,
as you watch in silence with glittering,
hungry eyes.

Unmapped

Like a melody that I once knew,
you sink into the buried spaces of
my mind and stain all the dull grays
a vibrant carmine.
Echoes of conversations long since past drift on a million horizons,
illusions of a mirage,
tattooing my retinas with a constellation of loss.
I weave your words from threads of
forgotten memories
and run them across my body.
But they lose their way in the
unmapped galaxies
you refused to venture near,
competing only
with the same spectacular way
I used to lose myself
at the mere thought of you.

 

Imago Dei

In the caverns of my mind

I walk

amongst ruins of scattered opulence.

How brilliantly they shined

once,

how final their destruction is.

If You are to live in here

with me,

then please restore my soul.

Set me as a seal upon Your arm,

a royal diadem in Your right hand.

A second pair of footsteps echoes in the dark,

or maybe

I imagine them.

Scattered — Coffee Flavored Thoughts

Ahh..if my love for traveling and how it makes me feel can be immortalized in verse, this is it ♥️

I left bits and pieces of my heart in all of the places I have been. I close my eyes and find myself in the labyrinth of my mind. There, the sunlight glinting off of the bronze statue as you drive by, your head resting against the coolness of the window. There I am, splashing…

via Scattered — Coffee Flavored Thoughts