Love is Jillicious




All literary works on this site are owned and copyrighted by Virgilind Villanueva-Palarca. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use, copy, editing, reproduction, publication, duplication and distribution of the text, without explicit permission from the author, is punishable by law. (photo courtesy of kooki)

BLAMING LUNA

It must be the moon
For what else could it be?
Let us blame the white light
for beaming back memories
long wiped away by a million midnights
It was the moon
Not the song
Not the dance
Not even your kiss
and the way you held my hands

Please tell me it’s the moon
casting but a wicked whim
Playing with a dream
long hidden by the years
once lost and now seen



THIS THING WE DO

Sweat on sweat
skin on skin
Your body hard against mine
A carnival of whimpers
and sweet spasms
on my nerve endings.
Pleasure and pain
Love and lust
mixed and served
like a deadly tonic.
Two tall glasses for you and me
Are we spinning
in a twisted merry-go-round?
The answer --
elusive, faint and fading
like the shadows we cast
at 4 am;
like your eyes hidden
in the irises of your thoughts.



YESTERDAY

If sleep makes yesterday unreal
then i refuse to succumb
to another twilight's embrace.
Let there be no tomorrow
for we would only be left
with lukewarm remains
of what we shared:
stifled sighs between our lips
and sweat be-dewing
the ends of our skin.

Though nothing in nature
is ever lost, sometimes
memories are reduced
to fit the palm of a hand
that one may carry it
for warmth on night
when the moon seems dazed
in its own dark charade.

But my hands are small
and memories elfin in my grasp.
If I had to sleep with my eyes
closing to hurried images
of you; your smile; and
your laughter fading into
whispers...
then I spurn to open them
for a dawn outshone by the truth
and magic of yesterday.



ELLIPSES...

There’s something written
between those three dots
Perhaps they are words
too elaborate to spell
Could be sentences
too long to construct
Maybe phrases
too rambling for gist
Possibly thoughts
so dangerous and delicate
What about feelings
so flimsy and forceful
Perchance wishes and whims
you want invisible to my eyes
and discernible only by my heart
For now,
I can only guess . . .



POSTSCRIPTS OF A FLING

Swirls of smoke from your cigarette
Obscure your face
An hour of stunned silence has walked by
You told me
You don't love me anymore
And I asked
Why?
But you didn't answer
Instead,
You took the last cigarette
Lit it up
And heaved a puff

What's left between us . . .
Smoke
That shrouds your face
And hurts my eyes




BIG SKY MIND MOMENT # 1

In this place
Filled with smoke,
cocktails and beer
A flood of faceless faces
and their slurry cacophonies
There’s you and I
an inch close
yet a universe apart
Too near to be touched
yet far enough
to keep your secrets safe

What is swimming in your mind?
Does that frown have a name?
Question after question
Muffled
Stopped
Unsaid
The vodka stirs my blood
and the space between us
stretching
expanding
until you become a faceless face
The unreality of a good dream



BIG SKY MIND MOMENT # 2

I am drugged with this dream
Of you and me
My blood slowing
sinking me deeper in your mouth
Your gaze heavy
pressing me against the wall
My breathing in staccato
reaching its last beat
And I slip gently
into a short white slumber

Until I wake again
to a reality of non-kisses
and absent gazes
I ask you
my voice frail in feverish fear
to light my cigarette
and the fire burns within me again
That is all I need
I am high
The dream playing in color
once more


BIG SKY MIND MOMENT # 3

The evening saunters slowly to an ending
Your beer bottles parade the bar
And my tobacco stick chars down
To a brown filtering reality
Better left in a nearly-filled ashtray
Of my burnt-down longing
And nicotine escapes

I wander slowly off into another morning
Hitting tripwires of memories along the way
Homebound to an empty bed

The scent of cigarettes linger on my fingers
And your song goes on longer in my head


WINGED

Everything seems to have wings
When I come to see you

Everything fleeting
Taking to the air
Like the smoke from your cigarette
And the thoughts in your head

Everything hurrying
Dashing and taking off
Like the brush of our hands
And the breezy goodbyes

Everything soaring
Aflutter and racing
Like the riffs of your guitar
And every pulse on my body

Everything flying
Swift and hasty
Like the minutes of this moment
And the night we first met


THE MASOCHIST IN ME

What is the taste of pain?
What if it's sweet
not bitter
like we were told...
What if it's succulent
and we're only
petrified
to take a bite
of its rough skin...

What if
were all masochists
Magdalenes
and mavericks
masquerading
as faint mortals...

And pain
is the un-found paradise
on earth...


ODE OF THE OTHER WOMAN

Forgive me
if i crave the coming
of twilight
when the skies look wounded
and bruised
with the day's laments
and longings
Don't hate me
if i feel beautiful
wearing this stolen crown
laureled with his love

It may be my fault
It may be a sin
for someone else's king
to make me his evening queen

I don't know
I am lost
I am drunk in this romance
Our tango is slow
and our kisses go deeper
as the night dances
into its darkest hour
when nothing else is lucid
except this guilt


FORBIDDEN

Kiss me
like sunsets do on clouds
at twilight
Make it deep
Make me sink
in this sweet darkness
Touch me
until I burst out
into my own pink sky
Make it soft
Make me warm
In my slumber
For tomorrow’s sunrise
is a sad reality
of you holding hands
with another

And so I wait until the moon
takes over the sun again
The two of us taking a bite
of the red-colored fruit


ABSENT AFTERGLOW

Like cigarette after cigarette
I heave and puff
Chain-smoking every memory of you

The outline of your body
Under the moonlight
Is like Siberia and Sahara
Both unmapped
Both unconquerable
With terrains that make me parched
And caves that leave me cold

Every night leaves me
Searching through this labyrinth
In pursuit of your heart

Your mind is a landscape
Planted with pictures of her
The rightful goddess of your reality
The woman with the womb
The mother of your child
The one you come home to
After leaving my bed


ADDICTION

I crave you
in the afternoon
when the sun is lazy pink
and the heat soft
like a cup of cappuccino
painting my mouth
with a sweet white froth

I pine for you
in the evening
when stars are kissing
and the moon’s lust
meeting my own
like a bottle of red
smearing my mouth
with this addiction called you


APRIL MIST 

Like rain on a perfect sunny day
You came to me
Unannounced
Unsure
Unreal
Yet here I am
Drenched with thoughts of you
Soaked with promises
from the clouds in your eyes

Your kiss
like the soft sunlight
warming my damp skin


MIDNIGHT'S BLOOD

Splinters of the moon
slice through the skin of midnight.
Blood dripping from the stars
leave cerise stains
forming a bleary mural
on my white sheet of silence.
No sighs, no words, no cries
escape my body.
I kiss the night
in his nudity.
He rides away,
a glinted half-smile,
with a black cloak –
the same mantle
covering my eyes
from seeing dawn’s ugly mirth




PREDATOR

I am a predator
I eat the meat of men
who come my way

Yes, I am a predator
I know no mercy
on my prey

I'm always hungry
for your flesh
Once I have you
between my teeth
it's ecstacy and death

Let me lick
that sweet blood
dripping from your neck
Let me suck
your soul
til you break into cold, cold sweat
Let me swallow
you whole
and leave nothing but bones

Let me have this meal
Tonight
on these white sheets
where every stain
every morsel of you
will remain

Because I'm a predator
You're my prey
Can't curb my craving
There's no way