omnis-atrumWhisper

American

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The mountain and the seaThe words were never able to escape my throat / while I stared at you in awe at each restaurant / and let them be drowned out by the clinking of silverware

Mar 17, 2019

CodaWe stood alone in the lowest point of an empty pool / the same one that used to be filled with cool, restorative waters / I still carried the lacking waters within me daily like a pufferfish

Jul 10, 2018

SleeplessI can’t remember the color of your eyes. As much as I hate to admit it to myself. I hate myself each time I say it aloud. How could I love you so much more than myself and forget such a thing? And it’s too odd to ask now. If only I could see you. The sunlight would reflect off your eyes and I would remember why they always called to my own to rest on them. I would remember the only place I ever truly felt safe. I can’t remember the color of love. Its brilliance once dazzled my eyes so that I almost looked away, but now it is a colorless campfire that keeps me warm. I want to say they were brown. There are moments when you walk through my mind and I can almost see them until you close them when you smile. A man could travel through every level of hell for a thousand years and not forget your smile. I remember your smile, but it’s difficult to remember you without it. Even when we poured out our sorrows until we needed to open the doors and let them out into the world. Even then you smiled. For you and I emotions are the air we breathe in to feel life and out to keep it. I don’t think they were blue. Or green. Brown or hazel still seem more accurate. I want so badly to see them but they keep closing with each caress. I remember your caress. It was soft, calculated, delicate. It’s the only time I’ve ever felt like the China plates that are pulled from the cabinet for important guests. Like you were so terrified you would break me that you took slow steps towards the table. It makes me laugh to remember that you talk like a nerd. I do too, admittedly, but the thought still makes me laugh. Like neither of us thought we were good enough and tried to be more proper and correct to make up for it. I’ve always been attracted to women who can explain why I’m wrong when I am. But I’m not wrong now. I’m a registered ***** donor, but I didn’t know they could be taken while I am alive. It seems fitting since you were the one that taught it how to beat against my chest in ever quickening rhythms. I can remember what your hair smelled like. On the day you brought the beer that neither of us were able to drink. You always smelled like you had crushed flowers pressed against you just before you walked through the door. I don’t know what the flower is called but I can see the farmers picking only the best one from each field just for you. I can’t stop remembering how much I miss you. It plays over and over in my head like the cd you bought me when I turned 18. I had no idea who the band was but I loved them as soon as you handed it to me. I’m so grateful you have good taste or else I would have fallen in love with ****** music. It’s all pouring onto the page like you asked, not because you asked, but because there’s no weight we ever shared that we didn’t both already carry. I know I should have fought a thousand times harder for this, but I didn’t. We didn’t. I remember the sunset on the beach. The assumptions that were made and how I wished more than anything that they were true. I can almost see your eyes before you turn to the truck so we can go back to the house. I have always let you walk in front of me. I preferred it. No matter where we were headed I would happily follow you. You helped me understand what old men spoke of when they discussed the pursuit of happiness. And why it’s so difficult to actually catch it. I keep looking at the clock and can see you napping somewhere on the west coast. The rain is falling and there’s warm whole leaf tea brewing on the stove. I’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been raining but every time I try to see your eyes the lightning crashes and you close them in anticipation of the thunder. I can’t remember the words to your poems, but the force that they carried by your tone let me know that sometimes your share of the weight was more than you could bear. And I would have carried all of it and you if you would have asked. But now I am asking instead. The next time we meet, stare into my soul and remind me why I can remember every single detail except the color of your eyes.

Mar 27, 2018

The CycleWe found a complicated dance that we practiced for years / so often that from watching, each knew the others steps better than their own, / but you feared a misstep on stage and trembled violently in fear

Feb 22, 2018

RadiantHer silent steps were not as effortless as they once were / with footpads worn down from constantly having to walk away, / she tiptoed around the beast that blocked the path she had traveled

May 14, 2017

SustainableI was born a hunter. / A rush of blood surging through my veins / with each poke and **** that might bring sustenance.

Aug 8, 2015

IntimacyYou were not supposed to recognize me. / How could anyone believe we are as similar / as we seemed to think on that night

Jun 15, 2015

VillainousThe Mycenaean people carried Tiriseroe as a god / his valor with the capacity of any three men / and he rose into the divine realms,

Jun 5, 2015

Entangled SutratmaHow was I supposed to try to save you? / As our souls were seemingly hanging / from the same silver cord

Mar 18, 2015

Acquired TasteI told you that I had no choice but to love you / and you smiled and nodded as if you were giving in to the thought, / but your eyes brightened and your mouth contorted

Mar 5, 2015