Elena in Blue
Gypsy GirlText Box: Elena in Blue My gentle azure dream sleeps beside me: here with watery eyes open in tender trance; where I become a dating site Quasimodo hanging from ramparts. My cathedral is this ancient lexis tower of seduction built upon saturnalia festivals where we are so wild with sexual revolutions of undone reversals. And yes, I have written other poems. And yes, every last one of them was true. And yes, I have said it all before in so many ways. Your stillness is my sole comfort. I don’t want to touch you. I am too sad for that. I only want to rest my head next to yours. My baroque confessions here are strung, stretching as your long twist of white pearls slung over your soft neck; my lost infinity residing in margins outside of love’s frame. Broken. Broken and shattered. Fallen gargoyle of gothic fragments licking at your feet. I press my face next to this digital screen so I can lay along side you, and not be so alone on the page of a cold February night. You rest back on brocade. I want you to take all my sad testimony of timeless lust. This screen is cold, but you hold me fast in blue haze fog, where I can whisper into your open ear, such interwoven secrets of desire. You want me. You don’t want me. You want me. Here, you are still reading on, and for this moment I have won all I could forever need. Into chilled catacombs I will carry you, and in this darkness of your lost imagination my pattern of digital touches will take you again, and again, holding you on this edge… Now I see YOU. I touch YOU. And inside you, you feel me. This is a magic beyond all futurist knowing where I am its master and you are its slave. Yet, it is your eyes that whip me on to tears, as I spend my blood to moisten lonely thighs. You are so beautiful. Here frozen below, and above. Laying forever still captured in silent water. How could I not cry? How could I not shed these words? Jim Larwill