by Nancy Machlis Rechtman He told me that my eyesWere stars twinkling in the nightAnd when he kissed me he murmuredThat my lips were the sweet petals of roses. My heart became the flutterOf birds’ wings soaring through the treesAnd his wordsWere the silky balm on my wounded soul. “Your…
by Jenny Andrews Days lie down crumble all around ruins obscured in mid-February shadows Sundays lost amid gods long forgotten. Sleeping in with a remembrance of his hand at the small of my back, resting there, his lips flutter behind my earlobe, the scent of him-musky like sweat, his kiss…