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Three LoversThe two lovers sat among the gardenias.
Along came the third.
The two men stared at one another, careful to control themselves. If she had not been present however, one of them surely would have been limp weight, face in the dirt.
She knew the vociferous hatred that passed between them. She knew the guilt of loving both and being able to choose neither. She knew she couldn't live with it. She stood and quietly strode down the brick path that led to the city street. She paused on the curb, the passing traffic blowing her hair in her face, and turned back to look at the park.
The seated man had a quiet, disciplined look, but his eyes grew wide when he realized her intentions. His rival understood just as quickly and sprinted toward her, shouting her name and various protestations.
He was too late. They were both too late.
to a beloved, with time running outYou lie there, casting back your sideways smile and doing what you do best; I can't help but laugh.
I forget my tears as I feel your warmth against me, your body rising and falling as you breathe-breathe-breathe-breathe. Life is in you, and I can feel it. I know it's there. But what happens that sudden day that it is not?
My tears rise again, as I look at you shifting your weight, now resting on your chest. We don't sense the days in the same way, and you don't know, as I do, that we are on the short end of our time together.
Your breath has slowed, now calm and steady, its rhythm marked by each drop that falls. You would will me to forget my human-ness if you could. You would have me join you in the spirit of wildness, one devoid of calendars and clocks, one defined by its animality.
I would do well to follow you. You are a beautiful shape with an equally beautiful heart, one that seems to shine from your still-smiling eyes. I don't understand
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More