Take Me

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On the wings
of my sadness
I flew into a dream
of you.

I thought I had lost you.

Yet Desire stood
waiting to be reassembled
like companion pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
into a familiar template.

You came for me
in the rooms of my dreamtime
where doors
are always unlocked for you.

You slipped past my mother’s protective guard.

You entered.

We faced each other,
solemn with sweet relief.

Your hips slid
into the groove
of my own,
locking into place,
where they fit so well
like wooden railroad tracks,
bound to each other
to forge a pathway.

I climbed on,
rode you.

I don’t care so much about the destination,
but only
that you take me.

Please

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“Do I dare put the dream market on display?” — Anne Sexton

 

Please do not steal

my gilded words, carefully crafted,

from the tip of my heart’s pen, stained as it is

with the ink of my blood.

 

Please do not rip

my precious fluttering heart

out from the velvety folds of my delicately embroidered hope chest,

so innocently beating.

 

Please

do not dim

my small spark of radiant life,

vibrantly aglow,

effusive with love and agony,

my intrepid inner lantern

lighting me

along the path

of my soul.

 

 

Please.