Her need
To be held
Close against her wet neck
The taste of summer and leather seats
Tears and well played songs
Her perfume and the laundry smell of clothes
A bird repeats its protesting caw
Sprinklers intermittent
They lie wrapped around the other
Glistening lizards on stucco
Her thighs are muscular
Beads of persperation
And a haunted look in her eyes
Like a car crash playing on repeat
She wants to touch her deeper
Than tragedy can reach
All the way beneath her skin
Where uncertainty cannot dictate and only then
Head flung back and nimble neck stretched
She lets out a cry
Catching the top of trees
Like unexpected summer breeze
So far from fear
For a time, it is forgotten
TheFeatheredSleep 
Stunningly beautiful! Love this!
If only we could go back to those innocent times. This is profound, as are all your pieces.
Oh my sweet candy girl
So beautiful this truly is
LLLLLLLLLLooooooooooooovvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee THIS! ❤ ❤ ❤
Absolutely beautiful, C ❤️
Ascending were fear cannot follow. Lovely!
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – an intimate respite
”…a haunted look in her eyes
Like a car crash playing on repeat
She wants to touch her deeper
Than tragedy can reach
All the way beneath her skin”
sigh, that is beautiful. pure poetry there.
This fills me up with yearning, Candice. ❤ You're such a special writer.
Again your word are superbly eloquent.
Magical. I like the car crash playing in repeat
Made me think of that JG Ballard book CRASH except I took exception to that book when reading it because I thought at the time (got my knickers in a twist about it) that it was sexist for sexualizing car crashes until I grew up a bit and saw what he was really doing/saying with the story. Now I think it’s quite clever.
Thank you dearest Ivor
Thank you Kindra. Coming from you, a writer I adore, that means such a lot. Thank you for taking the time to encourage me it really does work and help as you know how hellish it can be to have any confidence in what we do.
You make me weak kneed when you like something I have written. It’s like Sylvia touching your shoulder.
Or I should say Sexton as she was our mutual muse. And still is. I do think she does heals and lipstick like nobody else. Maybe we should write a poem together about her?
Wouldn’t it be something to be able to completely get away from it? I do believe love is the ultimate redeemer.
Tee Hee. As the MASTER of romance I thought you may! (note the word MASTER is not said in jest or lightly but with due reverence)
Thank you so much lovely friend I am so grateful you think so
Thank you dear one I appreciate YOU. I do like the idea of innocence and returning to less cluttered times. Maybe that is what writing is all about. xo
Thank you so much dearest Bill
Dearest Shielmaiden, I take everything you say to me in the spirit it is given. And I’ve always known your heart to be sincere and beautiful! Thank you. ❤
So well deserved! My pleasure!
I’ve never read the book or seen the film
You’re most welcome. I got your back, always. It is quite amazing, what it takes for us to expose our souls.
You are kindly welcome! And I appreciate you, too 🙂 It would be nice to return but oh well, we can get back there through our memories and our writing. Happy writing xo
oh yeah, definitely!
This makes me wonder at these kinds of feelings…. you captured them. It’s with art that I now experience them….xo