I write your echoes
In chalk and not in etchings
A shield for my heart.

Mark, my best friend,
Gifted me cheap fine wine
For my 20th birthday
But didn’t think to bring a cork *****
So like any other underage college kid
We banged the bottle
Against desks
Against bed frames
Against arm chairs

Pop!

Success laid in stabbing the stopper
With an unassuming pen
But pressure had built up
And purple still stains my ceiling
Our accident ******* painting
Our unintentional Michelangelo memory
But created with unrivaled passion –
A combination of desperation and anticipation
A testament to the trials of truest friendship.

Scoffing you wrote up
The fortune teller to be
82 percent ******* and
18 percent insane.

But clairvoyants exist -
They’re people who
Realize the future
By looking to the past.

Fortune tells time and time again
That the answers we seek
Have already been taught.

You’re like quicksand —

The more I struggle to move away
The faster you drag me in.

To gain your support
I’ll have to learn to relax.

She used to do spectacular things quietly
But there’s no more spectacle hidden up her sleeve –
Says she’s worn
Says she’s over-worked
Says she’ll fade away like a passive shade of gray –

Can’t remember the last time she felt

Worthy
Or
Beautiful
Or
Held

Says her heart is a broken grandfather clock
She simply can’t fix to chime at noon –
Says maybe she’ll be setting her own pace
With a refurbished cuckoo tune that sounds a lot like
Letting love waterfall in –

Her laugh is hollow
Her goal too lofty
Her eyes imprinted with skepticism
But for her sake, I pray Time is in her favor.

Her wrinkles marked parentheses around her lips
Where her smile used to be
Her wrinkles haunt her like ghosts
Happiness a distant memory.

He knew exactly what to tell her
To kiss her fears away
But I’d like to remind her that
No matter how poetic or well-spoken
Words are feeble and hollow
Until action takes place.