She Wants Revenge - Red Flags And Long Nights

Caveat Lector

I miss the ability to pluck from your feather bed what I hold dear
and you deem precious
I would by route
distract you with these well rehearsed false impressions
In softer muffled tones and spice riddled
Affirmations and accents
To teach,
and unlearn your mother’s caveat lector lessons
While the caramel plum hue of my intentions
gets the better of me;
it mercifully remains hidden
at least partially in the dim light from where we are sitting
Cradled in an overstuffed button punch love-seat
leaving me in this pitiable condition

I want to forget my own vision and see you in
purposeful poses
Positioning the lotus for me to notice
Your ambiance wafting in the air like summer roses

I swear

I swear the swans have traversed the lake
and upon the shore of your submission have landed
and here I stand
At this moment the sum of my weakness and glands
and all of this why?
So I may pluck the daylights from your star's
forbidden sky
Until exhausted you fall breathless into the slumber's hands
©2010 J. K. Bradford

Bajka,Bonobo - Walk in the Sky

Autolux - Turnstile Blues (From the Basement)

Under Loose Assumptions

On Wednesday I cleaned my hallway closet and I found the old album of scrap
Photos and miscellaneous magazine clippings
You used to keep
A box full of charcoal drawings and letters cryptically
written in Swedish
To family and friends still frozen and pickled on Akvavit in Stockholm
I wished I could understand the language
But the words stared back at me silent and apathetic
As if to mock my inability to decipher their import
I wish you had taken them with you
I wished I had not been so nostalgic and sentimental
Because
I thought I had long ago forgot
I thought the smell of you had long since faded from my memory
and before I had the chance to lift my shield of recovery
My mind splintered into a thousand small
fragmented windows through which shone your face
From every vantage point and place we visited together
or talked about visiting as we lay conversing and intertwining
our legs under comforters
And I was involuntarily transported to a page in the book
long ago, ripped from the spine
and dog-eared, and crumpled
Under the loose assumption that it had been discarded
I compellingly went through the box in its entirety
Photos, compact disc, and incomplete sketchings
Letters and scrap book contents
and in the end I remember what once was
Before reminding myself of what could have never been
Copyright ©2011 by j. k. Bradford, All Rights Reserve

Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby