927 [03 October 2017]

whether you and I remain just as friends
or pass into something more
perhaps something less
I wake each day now and life no longer seems
the insurmountable mountain it can be

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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926 Ocean [03 October 2017]

Billowing sails rumble inside me,
filling with the winds of hope
I thought long lost to changing tide of despair.
Creation laps at my bow as my vessel
moves across the vastness of my mind.
The darkness begins to flow from me,
as the waves build in strength,
chased away by the silver flutter of possibility
as its promise surrounds me in motion.
Light breaks at the horizon,
and I am on the journey again.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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919 [09 September 2017]

His voice whispers to me
of the things he wants
and my body rises to meet his demand.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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917 Secret [06 September 2017]

Late nights and interesting conversations
are what you bring to me.
Quiet, in my heart,
does the secret hide
hoping to not be found out.
That it has already considered
that home might be sought
in you.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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916 [06 September 2017]

What is love?
A fallow, fleeting thing
that never settles in the heart of those
who might wish for it most.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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915 Not as Described [06 September 2017]

Love was not what it was once promised.
When I came of age,
love was the end all, be all,
the goal, the dream, the wish.
When I matured,
it was a benefit or even a side effect
triggered by the chemicals driving
the physical manifestation we are given
to breed and procreate.
When I became as I am now,
love is sold to us still
as a magical, unearthly destiny,
but only if you are pretty enough, good enough,
only if you are deserving enough.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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914 [06 September 2017]

I gave up on love long ago.

When the idea was fresh, innocent
sweet and sugary pop,
I wallowed in its promise
of clear skies and sunshiny days.

As time passed and it mellowed
in to a sweet honey savored
with a cup of hot tea,
still did I believe,
in its promise of rainy days and warm sheets.

Then it turned into a darker brew,
a lager steeped in hallowed oak
that promised nights of pleasure and satisfaction
with contented mornings and languid days.

It is only when it turned sour,
wine aged too long,
cider spoiled by moldy apples
that its promise revealed the lie hidden
deep within its painful shackles.

I gave up on love long ago,
when its promise died in the froth
of the falsehoods we matured in.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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912 [05 September 2017]

He is like a secret treat,
savored in quiet,
his words uplift and enrich
a day that sometimes seem too long.
If only at the end,
it was he who I returned home to.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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911 [03 September 2017]

The fantasy is broken,
where you and I ever possibly,
may be, might be, could be.
My insecurities rise
like the gates of a castle,
deep like the moat around it.
You were never supposed to be.
Intentions never meant to allow
any of this feeling in.
I am inundated, awash
with a terror filling my entire being
as realization that a mistake
has taken place.
Even if a moment in your presence
was allowed, I wouldn’t.
I am the scullery maid,
you are a member of the King’s court.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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910 [30 August 2017]

To hear your ragged breath
close to my ear
as you press into me.
To feel your palm
rough against my breast
as my nipples tighten.
To open my eyes
with you inside me,
bringing me awake
with a cry of ecstasy
would be a delicious sort of morning.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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