Storied Truth

We run with the truth,

our very own storied excuse

where we tell the other

just how much we’re loved

always getting what we wanted to give.


our hearts are forthright and honest.

It’s the start of a fire

with the girl

who understands how to speak

the actual truths in words.

With both our charms

we electrify the dull and greyed out sky

and at the same time

we are fascinated

by the burning

we’re keeping safe inside.

It’s not exactly clear

what’s really going to happen

when we reach and touch.

When we start to kiss

there are oh so few

to think we’d ever be allowed

to drink the apochethries precious poison?

Who can come

and turn to me, all unexpected

when I’m upside down inside?

Come calm the vertigo,

that feeling,

when you step from the edge

and your stomach drops.

Both of us desperate to grasp

onto the other’s hand

holding tightly as we slide

down into our cushions.


we laugh

burying the background noise

nothing ever truly mattered

our laughter was the real sound

our hearts have been craving.

I love the reckless girl,

the one who has slammed into me

ever so gently

I wrap my charms around her

getting lost

in some special garden,

a garden I’ve been planning

for the last couple of hundred of years.

Solitarily building

trying to impress the shine in her eyes.

All at once

the world seems so free

void from all distraction

no more nagging complaints

from my left shoulder

that has decided to stop and rest.

To take the day off

allowing me this new start

some rest with her.

Laughing quietly,

side by side

we’re slowly building

the inside memory triggers

where we live by pure instinct.

A simple glance

and she turns,

a pause

and I ask if she’s alright?

Late night love-making

without ever really touching

our tantric positions

positioning the other

she loves to dance

I love to guide her hands

reaching in

taking that grasp

and inserting it into mine.

We fall, twisting in the blankets.

These words

are the storied truths

I’m chronicling

for just her eyes

in a public way.

I love her

and I’m blessed

to have words as my currency

so I can spend

the hours in days

showing the world

just how a ransom

is paid.

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