Tag Archive: fiction

Resembled love.

Resembled love A Poem by Coyote Poetry  True love is rare and hard to find.                           Resembled love. Pretty as a perfect picture and she gave me sly smile and a wink.I was weary… Continue reading

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Wicked we must be, wicked. We must know. Hanging with Dorian Gray.

Wicked, we must be. Wicked, we must know. “Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts or burn with his natural passions. His… Continue reading

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Jazzy Monday. Old love.

Jazzy Monday. Old love… She called me at midnight and she asked me. Johnnie, Johnnie. Do you remember me? I am so damn lonely tonight and please Johnnie. Can I come to you tonight?I… Continue reading

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Miss you, need you dear Ann Arbor.

Miss you, need you dear Ann Arbor. I am drinking alone beautiful Jenny. Somehow, I forgot where Ann Arbor was and I am so damn lonely. I have called you at midnight, every… Continue reading

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Love of my life. And a beautiful Hope Winter song.

Love of my life. I caressed her beautiful face and I told her. I am going to love you forever. I promise dear Angela. I won’t leave you alone and I will be… Continue reading

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Stitches.

Stitches. I remember her last words. The million hellos were erased by a midnight goodbye. Once we entwined our lives and now in my secret place. A million fingerprints, leftover reminders. I painted… Continue reading

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The Texas jazz, I do need.

“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.… Continue reading

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The easy days and the good days.

The easy days and the good days. On a cold days in the grasp of the Bosnian Winter. I wrote your name in the snow.Jennifer, Jennifer, my Jennifer, I love you. I left… Continue reading

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Maybe Florence, maybe Basel?

Maybe Florence, maybe Basel? Once beautiful Swiss gal befriended me in the late Spring of 1979. We met in London and she told me. London is okay, but Florence in the month of… Continue reading

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Stitches.

Stitches. I remember her last words. The million hellos were erased by a midnight good bye. Once we entwined our lives and now in my secret place. A million fingerprints, leftover reminders. I… Continue reading

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