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Storm

I lie alone in the dark, and wait.
The moonlight penetrates the blinds, and dances around me.
The rain pours outside and plays it's seductive melody.
I slide the door open gently, and the breeze caresses my skin.
I unhook my bra and it falls to the floor.

I walk outside and the rain's fingers fondle my skin.
I lean back and the cold wall finds hear from my bare back.
I watch as the lightning plays it's game.
Every minute somewhere new, carefully choosing it's next victim.
The thunder listens, waits, and laughs as the victims fall.

I light a cigarette, and the smoke fills my lungs.
I exhale slowly, and the smoke dances with rain.
Little satisfaction gained, I throw it to the ground,
and a puddle swallows it.

I walk to the balcony's edge, and touch the bar softly.
I lean on it, and my breasts engulf it's coldness.
The door opens, the waiting done.
He walks in.

Seeing I am outside, he comes to me.
His arms wrap around me, and his hands take my breasts.
His touch is ice, and his lips are frozen.
He turns me around with his hands all over.
I try to speak, but all I hear is the laughing thunder,
calling me a fool.

He unzips my jeans, and he tears at my underwear.
He pulls me to the ground,
and my back is swallowed by the puddle.
He moves vigorously, and his eyes are on fire.
I try to smile, but I can't anymore.

He enters inside, and screams out her name,
over and over.
Does he know my name?
Does she know about me, as I know about her?
His hands run over my bare body,
and the rain hits my face.
He puts my hands on his body,
but then they go limp and fall to the ground.

His movements are always the same,
and his hands are always cold.
He kisses me once more, and goes inside,
leaving me on the ground.
I hear him talking on the phone, talking to her,
telling her how much he misses her,
and that he'll see her soon.

The breeze chills my bones,
and the rain sucks the last warmth from my body.
He comes outside, mutters something, and then is gone.
I lie there, and the wind picks up.
It's been cold in my heart so long,
this night doesn't hurt.

His heart is frozen, colder than ice.
The fire in his eyes is for someone else now.
He has stolen all my heat,
and he won't let me go.
I rise slowly,
and the memory of the night imprints itself in my mind.

I look over the edge of the balcony,
and my heart freezes, and falls to the ground,
the wind carries it up to the lightning,
and I watch it go, longing for it to stay.
The sidewalk calls to me from so far below.
The thunder laughs as the lightning begins its game.
They are calling their next victim.

My muscles move unwillingly.
I beg them to get me over the bar, and they do.
I sit on the bar for awhile, hearing the calls,
letting the wind dance with me.

The storm has played it's game,
and the lightning has won.
My heart is no longer mine,
and all my heat has gone.

My tears begin to fall
and the mist overcomes my thoughts,
and I fall into the darkness,
hopelessly lost.




the rustic gates
Information about the first Illusionist!
the definition of illusionism
the evolution of my poetry
a scroll of poem titles
naviation of non-illusionistic sites
a scroll of entertainment of a illusionistic nature
A poem by a modest friend