Poetry By
Dustin Brown
Published on: 1/30/2013
Sonnet
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
Unrequited
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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