Holding your soft hands and dancing through sunrays around in circles as we smile and cherish each other's comfort through the loneliness in our hearts.
Golden hour peaks and you sing through my treasure chest filled with open treasures of golden honey, and that honey drips down the surface of my fingertips as we kiss each other in a warm gleam of freedom and surpass realms of stars and dreams.
The honey trickles our kisses and makes a sticky hot mess under the steaming sun as it begins to set through white fluffy clouds.
Feeling high like cloud 9
I want to feel your chest pressed against mine, forever and key it into a lock that cannot ever be undone.
I love you.

The memories we make feel like a never ending escape through Alcatraz.
A portal so clean and pure.

Oh all the words left unsaid-
All the fits of anger,  
   I twisted away under a bitten tongue.
All the tears i didn't cry,
  stored in a vault in my heart.
And yet we crammed all the 'what ifs' into a single,
   "Goodbye."

Yet, when he puts his hand on my waist,
and pulls me in
for the last fiery kiss
I hold my breath for just a second-
as if i could bottle this moment up
into a single memory,
and I could live there forever
floating in his arms.

And I'll wonder if he thinks of me
as the girl he could have loved all his life,
or just a chapter of many lovers
that he left unread.

Built on land stolen from the natives
On the back of blacks who were
stolen from their own land.

Indigenous slaughtered like the buffalo they herded
Rounded up and marched into unwanted corners
There to starve until oil was discovered
And it became time to march them again.

Blacks who were declared to be less than human
Denied the right to do anything but work.
Families that were like grapes in a cluster
Ripe for the picking off of the best ones
And no thought given to those left behind.
Premiums paid for those enceinte,
Harbingers of the two-for-one sale.

Righteous blindness is a national disease
That overlooks the broken teacups
In the mad pursuit of tea.
That cannot see the trampled flowers
In the race to make perfume
That reeks self satisfaction
At the carnage left behind
And waves the flag of liberty
At those the cause enslaved.
                              ljm

I’ve not been kissed in 30 years
I’ve almost forgotten how it feels
I have a man who shows he loves me
But kissing’s not part of the deal

I used to practice on my hand
And think back to my younger days
When dates consisted of a film
And hours of kissing in a car

He won’t say why our lips don’t meet
Breath doesn’t seem to be the reason
Nor the fullness of my lips
I’ve asked but there is no reply

There is a little airport peck
When I’ve been far away someplace
But it’s mostly for the show
To others locked in warm embrace

Is it because he’s Capricorn
Well I’m the same sign too
And I would love to hug and kiss
And do romantic things with him

But I expect that this is how
We’re going to spend our final days
Me longing for a tender kiss
And him still pushing me away.
           ljm