See It Too

We are drops of sand
formed in the hidden galaxies
of our hearts.
I was yours,
you were mine,
and we counted time
with our heartbeats.
Your pulse still vibrates
under my skin,
your fingers
tracing my shape,
folding me up
inside your
eyes,
hands,
mind.
Point your
eyes skyward
towards the moon,
I know you see it too,
and the night carries us closer.
They will always be the
same stars,
same sky,
same moon.
The same beach sand
and our hands entwined.
Take me
to your favorite place,
your family,
your heart.
Take me with you
when you’re
happy or sad.
Just don’t forget
to take me with you
when you go.

***

Twitter mash up precedes. :)

Hungover

You only write me
when you’re drunk.
It’s like the buzz
gives you courage
to speak,
to say the things
hidden behind sobriety.
I wonder
if it has always
been this way.
I watch your feed appear
and disappear
like you’re unsure of
what to leave in the world.
There’s a song
or a picture
or a video
and then it’s gone,
as if your thoughts
disappeared into the ether.
It’s like you wake up,
eyes blurry
and head pounding,
your feet barely moving
across the floor,
and you remember
the night before,
what you said,
who you talked to,
what you posted.
So you delete it
like you deleted me,
again and again,
like I’m some drunken regret
you just keep reliving.
You doubt yourself
so inherently
that your regrets
seem to transform
your present
into one big
back and forth.
No wonder
you reject me
right after saying
you care.
You can’t even decide
whether your friends
should know that
you like The Cure.
So how could you tell them
or the world
or even yourself
that you miss me so much
you can’t breathe
and you regret
every moment
you’ve stayed away.
How can you
change the future
when you can’t even
admit the now?

Wasteland

When strangers
look at me,
I wonder
if they can see
how you hover
near the surface
of my eyes.
Parts of you
tangle with mine
and I wonder
how we could be
so connected
yet so desperately apart.
I have no illusions
that you will be mine.
I know that we are fleeting
and fast
and too hot
to stay ablaze.
This wasteland
we call love
should never exist,
so fragile
and flawed
and focused on
what we can’t have
instead of what we did have.
But those moments
were magic
and fast breathing
and future
and it’s so hard
to let them go
because I lived
when I was with you
and I don’t think
I’ve done much since.
My heart
and bones
and fingers
and all the other parts of me
have been waiting
to feel that way again
but I’m afraid
that means I need you.

Scars

What if..
I never left,
I went back,
I was brave,
I believed,
I fought,
I chose me,
I chose you,
I was there,
You were here?
Who am I
when my hero
is nothing more
than a ghostly illusion
of a man
who once claimed
to love me?
Your silence
blew a hole
right through
my heart
and I am nothing
but ache
and exit wounds.
Your face fades
with each day
that parts us
and my shelves are filled
with hidden pictures
to remind me
of what I can’t forget.
Crimson splashes
across the pages
of worn notebooks
and my fingers bleed words
torn from longing and loss.
You are all my scars.
And I don’t know
if we can we write
a love story
from dust and ashes
and still turn it into
something beautiful.

***

Twitter mash up precedes. :)

3 a.m.

It’s 3 a.m. there
and I wonder
if you miss me.
You’re in the future,
in a time where
Saturday Night Live
is really live
and millions of people
sit at desks
before I open my eyes.
I see these pictures
of places you could have been
and I wish I could watch you
walk on gulf coast sand
or Atlantic beaches,
blue waves washing your feet.
It’s silly to be jealous
of people who get to be near you
and don’t realize the immensity
of that reality–
to be within driving distance
or walking distance,
to know they are there,
near you,
when I am here,
without you.
Why do words
never feel
how I want them
to feel?
Do you get knots
in your stomach,
your heart beating fast
and air evacuating
your body in droves
of unbidden breath?
Because that’s how
missing you
feels
but I don’t know
if these words do.

Colors

image

Photo Credit: naturepicsgallery.com

Blonde fields burnished red
in the evening sun,
spindly tree branches
stretch out and creak
like old men’s bones,
and why does everything
seem so beautiful
from far away?
Mountains look like paintings
and people like perfection.
We can reach out
and almost grasp the beauty,
the unreality,
the imagined happiness
trapped inside the fresco of life.
I keep waiting
for something amazing
to happen,
some storybook moment
where I realize I’m happy
and I see it,
there,
where I’m pointing,
on the horizon.
And I can get there
if I keep imagining.
Can I be in my thirties
and still not know
who I am?
Do those really together people
actually know who they are?
We tell little kids and teenagers
that they will understand one day
or that life gets better,
but it’s not better,
just different.
I don’t know if I’m happy
or in love
or successful.
Who defines those ideas anyway?
I just want crimson hills
and purple sunsets,
green trees
and cerulean oceans.
I want to feel the happy
everyone else does
but then I wonder
if they really do feel
what I imagine they do
or if we are all just masquerading
through life
hoping to run into right.

Dark

In a styrofoam cup,
I hold the ashes
of a life long ago
where truth was easy
and so was love.
My body is
a patchwork
of emotional scars
folded between
pages made of
always and forever
and I wish I had enough
inner strength
to eclipse my demons
and hold on
to the moment
where we loved
instead of lost.
But those pieces of dark,
they will break me
until I am
nothing more than
a pile of bones,
baked white against
the bitter sky.

***

Twitter mash up precedes. :)

Darling

My darling,
your eyes are liquid fire,
your hands like steel and feathers.
Devour me with your beauty,
consume me with your dark.
With sweet words
and hot breath,
with rough hands
and raucous laughter,
with beauty
and music
and love,
you awakened me.
When you are in my arms,
I can forget
that our love
is but a chalk outline,
nothing more than
a memory
of a dream.
When I am in your arms,
I live.

***

Twitter mash up precedes. :)

Cycles

I wish I understood
why I love you,
why your face hovers
behind my eyelids
on a perpetual cycle.
I wish I knew
why my heart
considers itself complete
when you are near.
My stomach fills
with flying things,
beating their wings
against my insides,
and that’s only
when I see your face.
My fingers tremble
when I read your words,
and I can’t breathe,
the air sucked right out
of my lungs,
when I hear your voice.
I think I’d melt
if you touched me.
I think I’d probably die
if I actually saw your face.
You are so distinct
and so ethereal
in my mind
that it’s as if
you don’t really exist.
This bronzed statue
of memory
is piloting my love
for a phantom
of my own making.
I used to think
you were strong,
stronger than anyone else
I could imagine,
but now I wonder
what makes you so afraid,
of love,
of risk,
of breaking these rules
that know nothing
of the heart.
Do you run
for the same reasons I do?
Do you remain glued
to your chair
from the prospect
of finding happiness
and misery
in all the same spoonful?
I wish I knew why I loved you,
why I still pine
when I know
we are both
too weak
to cave.

Summer Snowflakes

These enchanting realms
of perfection manifest
exist in memories
of imperfect pasts
remembered perfectly.
It was a surprise,
that first kiss,
full of heat
and wonder
and star-lined ceilings
and hope
and promise
and a future
never to be.
You sunk your
fish hooks
into my heart,
slowly ripping it
from my chest.
And I was overwhelmed
by the magnitude
of it all.
I found you
by candlelight,
flickering love
to guide my way.
Feet bloody and tired,
I need protection
from your ashes
that hover like
summer snowflakes
in mid-fall.
In this gloaming,
there is only
you and me
and the words whispered
in times not remembered
until too late.
I escape into you,
build castles
and mountains
and star-crusted skies
from letters
that never quite say
what I need to.
So I imagine your fingers
twined with mine,
silvery sand in my toes,
aquamarine ocean
blurring the lines
between love and obligation,
and I call out
into ocean darkness,
“try not to forget me.”

***

Twitter mash up precedes. :)