Let’s elope…

Baby, please, let’s be reckless for the night,
We’ll elope in darkness
Just me and you,
hang our entire futures intentions
upon those first kisses,
carve our initials
into all of our promised tomorrow’s.

Let’s be reckless for the night,
run away
as ancient forgotten lovers once did
we’ll walk beneath the moon’s
pearlescent light
moist sea mist clinging to our naked skin
and soothe the deep ache of our ageing souls,
we’ll sip on red wine from crystal glasses,
and create a melodious symphony
within the orchestra of our existence.

Let’s be reckless for the night and steal love,
borrow tokens of time to be spent now,
and paid in kisses of relentless need
that rises at the sound of each others voice,
let’s drown ourselves in a moments passion
creating memories from fantasies…

Let’s be reckless…

Karen Hayward ©2019

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Restless toes.

I am restless, the sea calls out to me
like a mother calling
her child and
I am burdened to answer my souls call.

I am restless craving the gentle ebb
of a silent tide creeping across sand
lulling toxic thoughts, offering lifes answers.

I am restless, my toes search for soft grains
my fingers yearn for his cold icy touch
my eyes need it’s endless horizon of hope.

I am restless, the sea calls out to me
on salty fog and the gulls crying song
and I am burdened to answer it’s call.

Karen Hayward © 2018
Image and words

The gentle essence of sleep leaves me now
I stretch away the cold snake of winter
that crept beneath the blankets open mouth
and curled around my slumberous splinter.

I listen for a short second to birds,
they sing of merriment and joyous days
a perfect orchestra requiring no words
existing through the melody of play.

I watch a lone drop of water diving
happy, into a pool of ecstasy
sporadic tip taps and gleeful sightings
I pause and drink in this reality

Rising with cold still upon my tired skin
I pull on a soft, worn, cashmere jumper
embracing now soft pinks and floral prints
I am the hushed tones of succubus amber

I try to recall the day I became this new essence of femininity
and decide it was always there in haze,
Hiding behind my broken fantasies.

I sit by the open window and see,
sleep has left me free from worries, concerns
and in the silence the serenity nurtures me
And I am at peace listening to the birds

Karen Hayward ©2019

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It’s not that I think our souls will transverse
the very beats of times tick tocking clock
Or the stark darkness of our universe,
I don’t think love can make time pause or stop
It’s not the bond that binds, with unseen thread,
Or the way each one leads and each is led.
It’s not a phantom, ancient belief
synchronicity so tidy and neat
It’s not even a hopeful, dreamed thought
that in his delicate net, I’ll be caught…

It’s as physical as can be
this deep,
vivid, mind expanding, crazy need
to curl my naked form within his space
safe within our handmade nest of white lace
It’s the delicate essence of true trust
embracing love, friendship and delicious lust
Perhaps it’s the way he lets me fly free
unclipped wings, voice dancing across lush trees
returning to the nest at each ones call
I think perhaps that’s the cause of loves fall
when Alice slipped down that loving hole
and now became my only life goal.

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image and words

Patience patiently taps a toe

Whilst patience always has been my virtue
There are days when I cuss the universe.
Moments when I ache for his kisses,
times when I crave the taste of my name
slipping across his lips
like imploding thoughts all
begging for
fantasy to become reality
and reality to be
all of the now’s we have
and in those pending
moments of now
is the definitive truth
and that right there
Is the core of my hunger
and only he can sate this
need, only he can
quench my thirst and
whilst patience always has
been my virtue,
there are days…

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image and words

It’s not rocket science sweety

Dear one I have no business talking too…

It’s not rocket science my sweet…

They decieve us…not man, although they too lie,
I’m talking about books, poems, stories
Love, does not shackle us to endless grey skies,
or cage us behind thick heavy trees.
Love is boundless, without an origin
and missing the tethered rip of an end
alone, is not a facet love will bring
and if it does, my sweet, he is no friend.
Alas, you are caught in despairs whirlwind,
tangled between pain and belief, entrapped
in a splintered labrynth with false King.
Awake now, your golden light has been sapped.
Wait no longer, gather strength and esteem
this is not love, just an endless bad dream.

Karen Hayward 2019

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