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Face Trap

She touched my face


imprisoned it within her palms

small hands they were

that seemed to trap

nose, eyes, lips



She released me


a few minutes in the dark

and then her fingers rolled over cheeks

the scent of lavendar

the feel of cream

moulding clay


She ran the length of neck


patted the collar bone

and slid hands towards the arch

that would lead to more of me

another phase

two moons standing apart


She left the candle burning


and asked me to keep eyes shut

it burned camphor and eucalyptus

blinking, I waved towards it

blocking out the light

she smiled in the dark as would the night


She left only to return


my face again imprisoned

within her small hands

I did not choke this time

as the eyes were soaked

and water entered my pores


She showed me the mirror


I was caged again




2 Comment count
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The Sculpture


You were absent from Red Room for quite awhile. I missed your exquisite writing and poetry, such as this one.

I missed you, too!


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Jules: Thanks for missing


Thanks for missing me...as I often miss myself. I go through these phases of putting it up, for writing I am all the time. If only I were Picasso, I too would be dignified with the blue and bluer ones. 

I love poetry and so it happens. Appreciate your remidners that it is worth it.