the double sided door of a dream part 1

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    the double sided door of a dream part 1


    when she sleeps, he's her pen pal.
    sometimes they write love letters to each other.
    as she's trying to get ready to meet him
    she takes some pills and lies on her face
    while at the bottom of the stairs he waits.

    she is now traveling, and while on her way
    some dream in color, all she sees is gray
    if a door were to open, this hinge would be shot
    sprinting down those flights, when she saw him, she stopped.


    he's so debonair.
    but also a daredevil.
    because though they share letters,
    they make sure to own every night they get to visit each other.
    the nights here are different, with the skies maple colored
    burnt orange skylines and light purple accents

    this is paradise. she's passionate
    the fire in her eyes spread to a table where he handles it
    he's domineering, she's submissive and physical
    and the wine in the bottle yards away starts to shake.
    he mounts her on a table and gets close to her neck
    gently rubs the tips of her breasts
    ethereal kisses have her losing her breath,
    while in the real world she sleeps, and her sheets are soaked wet...


    outside, his convertible windows are getting frosty.
    but inside, oh inside:

    her middle passage looked like a strawberry with the top sliced off and once he put his mouth on it and sucked, it looked
    like liquid sugar had just flowed out of her.

    she sighs and bangs her head in unbelief and pleasure.


    then she feels the morning coming...
    a vision of carpools,piano recitals,
    lunches, nose bleedings and PTA meetings
    she needs to get back to these tasks that she set
    but before all this happened, there was one more thing left.

    Thank God for Defrost.

    when she screamed i love you to him, with her hands thrown up in the convertible driving down the freeway
    a piece of her was left behind
    and she felt like she could do anything, she had
    unlimited breath because the wind spoke for her
    the exhaust spewed out the shit that her life had given her
    and the car radio was bumpin' her favorite tune...

    and as they pulled off to her destination, this man she might not see again whispered in her ear and said,


    "i wanted to know if we could meet in our dreams tonight when we sleep,
    and creep to the edge of a pledge, dip our feet...
    kiss under moon crescent pond waters deep
    risk life and limb then dive off"

    next time, for sure.

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    ackronym’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    what a relief! 2
    virgin blood 2
    two, one 0
    the dream, compressed 0
    the double sided door of a dream part 1 0
    open 0
    lucid dreams 0
    about a fire 0
    I really really do 2
    I'm scared of you 1
    dance routine 0
    good food being tossed 1
    Candy 1