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  Aug 2015 Anto MacRuairidh
Storm Raven
Am I the only one who wonders,
what ants do all the time?
When they walk seemingly without a pattern,
do they know where they are going?
What do ants think of us, do we scare them,
or are we not importand enough to care about?
How do they communicate?
Can they be sad?
I keep thinking about the ants?
Do they ever think like this, about the flies? Or spiders, or butterflies?
Who will ever know...
Favorite song while having ***?

The sweet vocals of his moan
as he tears into me...
The perfect percussion of his skin
roughly colliding with mine...
The lush, panting rhythm of his breath, as he loses himself inside me.....
Collapsing onto my back...
Sweat drenched and
Smiling....
He is my favorite song!

©MV
I came across my reflection....

The marks you left
Had faded
And no matter how hard I stared,
Or how much I blinked,
I could not make the stain
Of your lips
Reappear.....

And so,
I touched myself
Just there,
But didn't flinch,
Could not feel the ache of your bite,
Your kiss....
Nothing but a ghost
Haunting my skin...
Teasing me with chills,
Reminiscent of your tongue.....

You were missing...

I was missing you....

©MV
  Aug 2015 Anto MacRuairidh
Storm Raven
Somewhere between sane and insane dwells the lonely poet's soul.
  Aug 2015 Anto MacRuairidh
Ameliorate
~
~
I've lived a thousand lives
And died a thousand deaths
Within the pages of my notebooks
~
~
he goes searching for love in the wrong ways
guided in directions by bedsheets and lost
by indulgence in the temporary
decadence and narcissism
-
a mapless journey lead in the retrospected
direction of peer fulfilled gratification,
met already past the point of no return
by a social gathering of perceptions
and conceptions towards a tangible
reason
-
the smell of sweat,
consecutive exhales and inhales
pinpoint reminders after the fact,
held tight by only bedsheets,
watching her get dressed
pulling what she wore out
that night over a coiffure
of tangled penitence
as it rises above the
neck of her shirt
-
sitting admit the marrow
of vision lies an exiting
woman, usually
brown hair, sometimes blonde,
behind the marrow lies thoughts
of penance that digs and widens
the crevice of perception
deeper and deeper
-
at times of stagnant intimacy,
intimacy that redefines ephemeral,
retrospected notions replay
and stain the mind of
women,
usually brown hair,
sometimes blonde
-
by this time
he rode the the wrinkles
on the bedsheets too far
destined to temporarily
subside the loneliness,
only to find out in the present
that the destination reached
has a population so nullified
that where he came from
was far better off.
Anto MacRuairidh Aug 2015
Remember it well do I  ~
Third eclipse of second moon
on Wrote-Clishhen Five

Saw your eyes; full of the force, did I
But full of Love ~ they were ~ a higher power
yesss. hmmm....Delighting everyone

The Cutest nose had you ~ and ears...
Oh ! ...And smile did you
like a thousand light-sabres, was it.

But your way ~ your way, it was
~ that made me love you
Many times laughing, spend, we did

(Yo-da one that I want - joked - you did
~ the best joke ever, thinks I )

Until, intervene and consume us, the Dark Side did;
Tears replacing laughter and hate; Love
Our friendship, to die, was meant to be

But swear I do,
On my six stubby toes !
Forever love you I shall

yesss ~ swear I do...

- Forever... love you
                  ...I shall
Even Jedi Masters hearts get broken
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