by Thomas Madenwald
Silken red dress pours slowly to the ground.
Moonlight on immaculate supple skin.
Lips to lips and you spark the silent sound,
Of love kindled at the barn dance back when.
Fans spin to our rhythm in southern heat.
We move to the silent sound’s melody,
While in this vanilla bedroom suite,
Forged in a world run by chemistry.
We made promises that were never kept,
From accusations that were never meant.
I was afraid of three words to accept,
Above all, leaving is what I resent.
Lips to lips and the silence stirs into,
The softest sweet whisper of I love you.
Hunt as One
Pines piercing the snow.
Wind roars through the mountain’s teeth.
Lost, lost in the howl.
Fur shadows exhale hot breath.
Fight until light. Hunt as one.
About The Author
Thomas Madenwald is sarcastic and loves to write. He attends Santa Barbara City College.