“I’m so happy” she said, “I finally found the love of my life.” She hugged him tightly not wanting to let him go; but he hugged her tightly to him, not having the heart to tell her that he was only a figment of her imagination. He was the true love that never was.
She’s with friends. He’s with friends. She saw him. He saw her. He waved. She blushed. He talked to his friends. She giggled with her friends. He approached. She rebuffed. He asked. She accepted. He bought Starbucks for two. She found seats for two. He said, she said, he said, she said. They left. They entered. He got the drinks. She found them seats. They drank. They talked. They drank. He asked. She accepted. They danced. He kissed. She kissed. They left. They did. She woke, midnight. She left, no note. He slept.
Early morning. He called. No answer. Hung up. Called again. Got voicemail. He cried. He talked. He cried. He worried. He wondered. He stressed. He cried. He hung up. He left. He knocked. No answer. He broke in. She’s not there. He left. He worried. He cried.
Afternoon. She’s got a box. Runs home. Noticed broken door. Calls police. Police arrive. She explains. They talk. Got security. Locks door. Opens box. She tested. She’s positive. She cries. She’s poor. She’s alone. Phone rings. She wipes tears. Looks at phone. Ends call. Tosses phone. Phone rings. Heart’s broke. Can’t talk. Keeps secret. She sleeps.
Next day. He calls. She’s strong. She answers. He talks. He’s relieved. He questions. She breathes. Don’t answer. She asked. They hang up. They meet. She asked. He’s concerned. She cries. He wipes tears. She cries. He comforts. He asked. She answered. He’s shocked. He’s poor. She’s poor. He left. She cried.
He planned. He mapped. He wrote. He stole. He vanished.
Years passed. She parented alone. She met. New love. He knew. He asked. She accepted. She wed, reproduced (again), parented (again). They lived. He wondered. She told. He comforted. She wept. Baby cries. Child cries. She comforts. They sleep. She’s awake. Phone rings. She jumps. It’s him…
Weeks passed. Tomb Stones. She’s dead. Old lover’s dead. Left note. “She’s mine.”
The Sexual Versus Everything in its Mirror
I personally know very little about sex. Virtually nothing. That is speaking purely of physical intercourse. Still, I can speak forever of worlds that soft sparks construct in a single kiss. It is here, in the palace of naive angels tender and young, that a nervous heart beats the sweetest trembling of rhythms in the day’s surprise. It is from these voices of subtle breaths, in the immediacy of experience, that I have found a language most akin to absolute philosophy in momentary bliss. A language spoken only through the silence of smiles. A universe of colors shared by the adolescent chameleon in our souls.
© Matthew Goff
When will people observe,
the inner, poetic elegance…
of Christ Jesus in my life?
Does everyday nonsense of
my human routine, disguise
Him, while promoting strife?
Striving for self-control,
under an atmosphere of peace,
my spirit is subtly stirred
to honor my Lord; woven into
my life is His fabric of Truth,
that’s sustained by The Word.
Though I’m utterly imperfect,
my brokenness allows His Spirit
to quietly glide around me-
and touch the lives of those,
who seek to arise above the…
constraints of their humanity.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
amazon (dot) com
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Your poetic poet ...
here i am creating a words ...
words came out only from a heart ...
heart which it feels you ...
heart which it loves you ...
heart that made a life with a happiness ...
that happiness which i got ...
got because of you ...
words created ,just to be for you ...
sun lighted,only to warm you ...
moon shined for of you ...
and i got a poetic because of you ...
and my heart only beats for you ...
your poetic poet ...
poet who got poet only because of you ...
a poet who knew a love only from you ...
a poet who loves only you ...
happy new year ...
my sweetheart ...
She walks by wearing blue stockings in the rainy afternoon
Her youth is like a tender dream
She wears a pair of adolescent stars from her ears
All her boyfriends, when they speak, sound like cool rivers
In the sky-blue of the day
The way lilac bushes crush petals into joy
Now three o’clock in the precious afternoon of torn cotton strands
School lets out a riot of sapphire glitter
Some girl stripes her vanilla ice cream cone with azure breathing
On seeing this she faints like a toss of sprinkles
She’s woken by blue candy kisses
Like a cluster of stars falling
From a boy
Upon her face
The constellation of a crush
As she gets up
A thousand blue ponies slide from her rain-water hair
Before disappearing in the distance
Young children mount them tackling flowers
She kisses him
And lets slide the sky-blue of the day from her lips
His arms fall like water around her body
As she turns, racing to make friends with
The twinkling blue of a butterfly’s eye
© Matthew Goff