9pm

Still wonder if i'm the mystery
within her meter.
Whether or not she missed me enough
To recreate my existence
Within her stanza.

I felt her last night-
Essence spilled through my pen
Filling my journal
creating-
"ART"

Art emanates we so
WE lived last night.
Under starlit skies and winters breeze.
Naught has changed.
Nor will it ever.
Forever-
...Master Mistress Of My Universe.

- Danielle.A.Watson

Day Dream Part 1

I dreamed of nights where only solace exist. Filling lungs upon inhale -
only hints of mahogany incense.
The nights where darkness crept low enough for me to kiss the cheeks of crescent moons,
trace galaxies with my index and feel smiles from Oshun...
She watches me, watch waves clash relentlessly against mountains of limitless heights.
I flew with autumns wind and quenched my thirst within nature's nectar-
danced to heavens harps and defined passion through the soul of Venus. Only amplifying our level of
love's intensity.
...now earth shattering.
Submerging myself within her waterfalls of purity; baptizing my mental to be freed from insecurities.
I emerged. No longer mortal,
Owl's eyes replaced mine, therefore dawn no longer intrigued me.
Embracing the silence of this night i found tranquility in a dream, within a dream.
...Found life within the depths of day's transition.

Danielle.a.watson
 

.Noon. Perhaps?

NOON perhaps.
We'll take that walk,
when your sun drifts from our veiw
and my moon gets prepared to take her place
in the dawn of night.
We'll walk
Through the amber settings of 6 pm
and remain in that mist until our souls meet
in the dew swept calm of morning.

-danielle a. watson

DISTANT.

She'd come from a different place, or time rather. It was obvious because the flashing lights, sirens and deafening noise did not capture her attention.
The thick cloud of smoke coming from the pipes underground, tainting our air was existent to her. Yet and still she breathed it in as if she yearned for that toxic in her lungs.

I saw it as her embracing the poison of life.

Even now, in the dawning of August her skin seemed see through and lips remained blueish.
Dirty blonde hair filling her scalp sculpted her face. Amplifying the green veins painted on her forehead.
She moved at a slower pace. Counting the seconds in which time stood still , noticing the dirt stained sidewalks and the air conditioners filling voids in every other window.
...and she spoke out of ordinary.
spiritually venturing into visuals of Arabians being freed into wide fields of daisies and--
wishing she was on their backs. Pulling at their reigns as they galloped into saturday's sunset. That way she was completely free by the seventh day to relax her mind.

Forcing herself to live by the inevitable loneliness most of us suffered from, this woman found solace in a life formed of a blissful ignorance. Detaching her mind from her soul leaving it up to her heart to guide her.
A stilted beauty i presume. But beauty none the less.

often mentally drained she used her love of life to craddle her. As if she still held the innocence of an infant.

A fool she became, so god granted guidance. Still not too sure if she cared to have that. . .

-danielle.a.watson

Falling in love w. your language.

You bring me peace.
Between the sheets
of your lined paper.

Your pen pierced my soul
bleeding ink unto an already tattered heart

Yet as i Endulge in the profoundness of forever
within each stanza

my mind is stimulated.

Unconciously drowning within the whirlpools of possibilities
and slipping through the cracks of your four letter words

my heart rejuvanated.

I "LINE-READ" across your pages
and dwell on your meticulously dotted I's and crossed T's
pausing at each thought that leaves me breathless

.I GASP.

Not only because im in awe
but because i have found myself drowning
within your delicious diction.

INTENSLY clenching the sides of the universe
as i succumb to your verbal penetration
and auditory masturbation.

and i orgasm
MENTALLY.

-danielle a. watson

12/07

.Intro

she sat curled up at the head of my bed.
Pencil protruding from her left ear, as high lighters met torn out notebook paper at the surface of my comforter.
I layed to the left of her.
Seemingly, attentively reading the last few chapters of The Lost Symbol.
Feeling myself drift from the pages, I no longer gave a fuck about Dan Brown.
I missed her.
I have not seen or felt her in weeks.
I wish I can blame that on professor New and her desire for an A in his class but I can’t.

“baby you hungry?. I can order China man if you like” -
“no, I ate before you got home”

She answered.
Never lifting her eyes from the pages.
I continued with attempts to reconnect with Dan Brown, but It was useless.
As if a book couldn’t keep my attention unless it was loaded with Pictures and pastel colors.
My eyes began to roam around the room noticing
The unfinished Amber walls from months ago.
Our first home project
She asked if i would paint them amber.
She once loved the sight of it flourishing throughout the skies at dawn.
About two months ago was the last time she yearned for that mental picture...



-Danielle a. watson

Our First Conversation

she said .."i want to paint you"..

so i took my place sitting poised on the stool of her mental.

Left hand relaxed on the cusp of my hip while the right hung in between my slightly parted thighs.

My eyes never leaving my artist,

as she remaind half hidden behind a blank canvas of her immortality...........

(Allison)

so I stood..

weightlessly caressing the purity of my canvas with strokes of her being

from time to time slowly creeping to the side of my canvas i caught a glimpse of life...

she..

gazing up at me still in my same stance upon her stool of imagery.....

(me)

And that glimpse she caught pierced through my soul deeper than you could ever imagine

Ididnt know how to react to her stare.

I've rehearsed my composure infinite times

But...this was different.

more than lavish physical attraction

she sought after my mind.

a journey to decode the complexity of my potency...

and i couldnt resist her.

the ability she possessed to manipulate each crevice of my mind

and intice every morsel of my being

enabled this magnetic hold. . .

........(your turn)

-danielle a. watson Allison Phillips

ANOTHER PIECE INCOMPLETE. . . . .