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Poetry By
  Dustin Brown

Published on: 1/30/2013

She stands on the meadow's hill,
crimson locks matted and braided behind her in a plait
that swings side-to-side as she recites to me a sonnet.

The field is listening as well.
Birds pause their songs to hear the melody of her words
and the daisies turn, the better to drink those mellifluous sounds.

I watch, entranced, as her lips trace the syllables,
dulcet tones depicting dreams,
telling me a tale of love's first sting.

The story unfolds and as I gaze into her clear eyes full—
dancing, dazzling, delighting in this song—
I feel it too, so penetratingly strong.

The prick of longing spreads from bottom to top,
like the gentle nibble of a butterfly
as it sips the nectar of a lily.

And when she's finished she rests her head in my lap,
humming muffled music
and lazily counting the petals of a tulip

until I can take it no longer,
and press my lips against hers
to once more taste those words.

Published on: 1/29/2013

With clear eyes blue
he watched me from afar.
I knew it, but pretended not to see,
pretended I was blind to his lingering gaze,
to the way those eyes followed as I passed.

With deep voice calming
he shook his head and laughed.
I knew it, but pretended not to hear,
pretended I didn't notice the note of longing in his words
or the smile that flashed when he said my name.

With thin arms strong
he lifted me when I fell.
I knew it, but pretended not to feel,
pretended the hand rubbing my back was of support,
the squeeze of friendship and not desire.

With ambrosial breath sweet
he sighed words along my cheek.
I knew it, but pretended not to taste,
pretended the mint was from my tongue and not his,
that the kiss was an accident and not an inevitability.

With damp eyes lost
he listened as I broke his dreams.
I knew it, but pretended I couldn't see—
couldn't hear, couldn't feel, couldn't live—
pretended I hadn't just killed a part of that man.
Pretended everything would be all right.

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