Poem: Does it Bother You?

Does it bother you not to hear my voice?

Do the sweet vibrations of my vocal cords sweetly saying your name, calling you names and calling your name as I.................sigh, remember your touch, make you remember the way my skin feels on your skin?

Do you think about me when you are angry? Rage against the world that saddens me.

Does it bother you that what I want to do to you is so much more than physical? Knowing that you miss me as much as I miss you, but I won't admit it. For now.

Does it bother you that I am the way I am with you because of the way you are with me? No disguise, no game, no judgement, just good times.

Does it bother you to let me go because you think without you I'm free?

Or could it be.....

I don't want to talk to you, I want to see you. I want to make you smile. I love it when you fight it.

I know that you can feel the something special in me, but you don't know what it is. Laughter is easy around you and I can't help but smile.

Know that when you let me go, I will come back as long as your arms are open to receive me.

Does it bother you that we still may never be?

Poem: Edible Chocolate Fantasy

I LOVE a challenge. Is that what you'll be? Chocolate poured all over me.

Dark and smooth, a voice so sweet. My edible chocolate fantasy.

The way you stir me up, temper me, with just the right amount of heat. Cool me til I shine, that's the best way to be. I'm for you and you're for me.

Or am I like ice cream? Cold as ice, sweet, mmmm, yeah that's it. Stick out your tongue and do that trick. Lick, Lick. (Motherfucker)

That look you get in your eye when you see me. Makes me think of an edible chocolate fantasy. The way you slide your arms around me, I melt. There is just no other way I can be. Covering you in my edible chocolate fantasy.

I am SO pleased to be...

But what are you to me? The chocolate to my peanut butter. The sugar to my taffy. My Decadent Distraction. So good, but probably not good for me.

Perceptive, adept , expressive and clever, I so want to figure you out. The way you turn a phrase, I am amazed at the subtle way you go about messing with my mind. I think somehow you've damaged me. So these words inside come spilling out.

YOU'RE SUCH A WRITER! You bring out the writer in me.

Your hot cocoa butter cream, caramel dream and though it seems. There is so much I want to know and some I'm scared to see. What are you like when you're not around me?

Hot dark chocolate, ready for me to dip my peanut butter. My heart starts to flutter when I remember the way you eat me.

120! Not boiling, but so hot. You've got my head spinning and juices, so sweet, flowing. Can you handle what's cookin' in this honey pot?

Hour after hour, we will devour the pieces of eachother we share. Could this be?

Edible.

Chocolate.

Fantasy.

I'm for you and you're for me.

Poem: Hostage

So you want to hold ME hostage? The thought makes my heart race. Held tight in your arms, bound by your passionate embrace.

Captivated and captured, for a time. Pushing to be free, but my desire is to be held. By you. I relent. Being detained, but not trapped, I am safe within your grasp.

I will be your hostage. Closed into your embrace. Bound by your gaze and calmed by your voice. Your hands like shackles on my wrists, holding me. I cannot run, no need to hide. I am here.

My desire for you is primal. Animalistic in its execution. Teeth on flesh, nails in skin. That spot..........that only you seem to be able to find. Feeling your hands in my hair, electricity courses through me. A whisper, a sigh and I try to break free. This moment is all that exists. Reality calls me back to it. Exhausted, I cannot return.

Gatekeeper, release me. My responsibilities beckon me and I must go. Fierce and dangerous, my release leaves you marked. Chained. I am in your thoughts.

I will let you hold me hostage...for as long as it takes ...until I have served my time...I want to be your hostage...for we are imprisoned in this pattern of life...love..spirit. Until I break free. Will you pursue? Try to capture me again for the things I do to you?

Does that make you think? Are you captive? Filling your mind with thoughts of my caresses. Binding you and locking you in a cell of the four walls of my touch, kiss, breath and bite. Isn't that right?

You are mine and I am yours, for a time. Captured by and for each other, until our time is up and we must part. Missing you, missing me, missing we and we must be apart.

Thieving time for a chased embrace and show of affection. The chase is on. Until that time when I am yours and you are mine. It's true.

I am your hostage? Take me now. I've already got you.

Poem: Lost & Found

I get lost so easily.

I get lost going "home", I get lost coming back. I get lost in my thoughts and find myself in a place I didn't mean to be.

I'm so glad you found me.

Poem: Thoughts of you.....

When I go to sleep, my thoughts are not of you. They are of him.
When I wake up, my thoughts are not of him. They are of me.
As I move through my day trying to move forward in my life, I can only hope that you will move on too.

I can fight with him, and fight with him, and fight with him and never win, but I don't lose. It's not that way with you. You have to win, so we both lose.

When I think of you, I don't smile. I used to. I remember those days. Before, you thought you loved me. Before you put me on a pedestal that I don't deserve. Keeping me from the pedestal that I do.

When I was excited to see you and I thought you were something other than what time showed you to be.

When I think of him, I bite my lip. I bite my lip and think of far off places, candles that have never been lit and baby oil.

For all of the time that we have been together, you don't know me. Neither does he.

He knows that aspect of me that is so frustrated with you, I want to take it out on someone, and he lets me. Stopping me before I go too far.

Just different. Pleasing in your own way as he is in his.

When I have thoughts of you, I have thoughts of him.

Poem: Shoes

I need a new pair of shoes.

My month is over and I finally have something left.
My bills are paid, but there will be more.
Rent, lights, food. Babies gotta eat.
Four beautiful faces looking at me for support.

I can’t do this by myself.

I’m rich with the blessings of friends and family.
Rich with the love and support for all my endeavors.

My body aches, my heart breaks. My head hurts and still I move. walking.
I walk so I can keep from screaming.
I walk so I can keep from taking a head long dive toward the nearest pillar to knock myself out.
Maybe I could sleep through all this craziness and maintain the stability I always wanted but could never seem to achieve.

I believe the children are our future, Whitney had it right. Teach them well and let them lead the way.

I have a potential doctor, lawyer, teacher and musician. Ya’ll I’m on a mission! To show them that they make brighter days.

I can’t help the decisions of others.

Deciding that they have a choice where I see none.
Bills need to be paid, babies gotta eat. The end of my month and my money have to meet.

I need a new pair of shoes.

Poem: I am more than I appear

I am more than I appear
Good friend - total shithead

I am more than I appear
passionate lover - distracted participant

I am more than I appear
My parents did a great job of teaching me to be polite. Most days.
My brother did an excellent job of making sure I am articulate. Most ways.

I am the sum of my experiences and the consequences of my decisions. The victim of my self consciousness. The strength of my convictions, right or wrong.

I am more than I appear
Don't let the sweet voice fool, my kind words are not all I have to offer.

At times I may seem exceptional, but I am broken in places. Confused and misguided, I have made my share of mistakes.

I am more than I appear.

I can sense the subtle sound of the mind's whispers.
I can feel the tension and excitement of words unspoken.
I observe the unnoticed and at the same time am oblivious to the overt!

You see, I have in me a dichotomy that reveals only a small part of me.
So pay attention. You may see me professionally, but you don't know how hard I play.

I am much more than I appear. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Infatuation

Inspired by a new friend who is an amazing poet and writer, I scribbled out this "teen-aged" poem. This is my tooth pick sized stab at the Dragon of spoken word that I have recently experienced. Conjured up while sitting one night after a late ride listening to my friend's moving words. I just had to give it a try. When I wrote this, I imagined that she was speaking the words. She is such an entertainer when she is on the stage and all eyes are on her. There is a light from within her that shines and is magnified by her voice. I'm a fan.

Enjoy. Maybe one day I will have the nerve to stand behind a microphone and speak aloud the words of my heart.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I can be a part of your life.
How can I be the one you call when you have strife. The one to comfort you when you've had a shitty day, if for no other reason than to tell you that it will be okay.
Even when things are so fucked up, you want to give up...I want to be the one to make you smile.
Can we just sit here for a while? I think you're so amazing.

I listen to your voice and imagine you are talking to me. Your voice says things that the words don't speak. It is like a message in there just for me. Or am I kidding myself?
I don't know what to do. I know I want to see you. I want to get to know more about this amazing person I have encountered.
There is something so real about you and guarded. Open and still a mystery.
The mad scientist in me wants to know "who, what, where, when, why and how". She wants to know what makes you tick.
The Coley in me just wants to know you. To tick to your tock. She wants to share time with you and hear your stories. She wants to tell you a few stories of her own. To share with you friendship and love.
"Love" is not a four letter word to me but a basis of my character. The warmth and that extra squeeze in my hug.
I just want to hold hands and walk. See the world around us unfold and fill with color as we travel this path for a while. I don't know what the future holds. I think it would be great if you were in mine and I in yours.

I'm just sayin'.....this is what I wrote when I thought about you.

Spoken Word

I recently attended a poetry reading for the first time. It was amazing!

I am sad to report that my preconceptions about the whole spoken word experience have been negatively affected by too much television. The event I attended was an intimate affair put on my Dare2BDifferent productions, I think that is how it is spelled.

I am having a hard time putting the experience into words. It doesn't really make sense to me. "WOW!" is the first thing to comes to mind.
I am hoping to attend more events. I was so entertained! I admire people that can express themselves in an artistic way. I can talk, but for some reason the concept of doing spoken word makes me so nervous. I am fighting the urge to run away from my computer right now.

It is so wonderful to listen to the words and stories of other people, creatively delivered while enjoying a nice glass of wine. I feel like an adult!

There was even a young girl there. She was getting up in front of a room of strangers for the first time! I had to tell her that she was impressing the hell out of me. I can babble in front of a crowd, but to read aloud, to strangers, the thoughts in my head is frightening. I realize, intellectually that there isn't much difference. "You go girl!" I thought as I saw this young, skinny and decidedly nervous child go to the microphone. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand with her thoughts written on it. She took a breath. Her soft voice escaped her mouth. She read her poem and thoughts of young love filled my mind like colors of a painting being created in my mind's eye, fleshed out in the words. I recalled feelings of being young and loving. I liked the poem, but not the feelings. Art can be like that.

There were other artists that shared their words. Crafted and sharp, lyrical and stunning. I even thought, "How did they know about me?" It couldn't be. Sometimes I don't realize that other people feel the same way about life, love, work and relationships as I do. I felt strangely connected to these people, strangers really, and disconnected from the many things that distract and worry me.
Yes. I think I would like to do that again. As a matter of fact, my sister's birthday is coming up and we are going to another poetry event.

I look forward to sharing more.