Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
He, once her lover, shattered all illusions of faith, stabbing her with the brevity of harsh words spewing from his forked tongue, and an utter lack of remorse on his handsome face.
His silhouette slides into the moonlit room, I cannot see his face only a fleeting memory gone too soon of another time and place.
Love rode in on a cold winter’s wind and stayed through the months of spring, but once the honey moon waxed and waned, love knew it was time to move on again.
Yesterday I heard you singing sotto voce in the summer breeze a melody of anguished longing to be shed of earth, to be flying free.
“The cost of flight is landing.”– Jim Harrison Love soars in on the wings of the fleet-footed god, making paupers of rich kings A petty thief, stealing as it sings, tugging at heart-strings with no thought of pain or peril.
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