absence makes the heart grow
tired
the kind that's not resolved through sleeping.
more than your voice, more than the songs we played, more than your laughter
I miss
the stillness of you looking at me.
the quiet of nights of not-talking together.
in your silence, I once heard
the calm evening sea.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
your smiles were contraband, smuggled
from late mornings in the kitchen;
your eyes were the deep dark green of
pine trees; bottled wine.
you were dew and early rays of sunshine
and the lightest thing I've seen.
today, I scrolled past a photo of you
and it didn't break my heart.
this is what moving on must look like:
drinking coffee without thinking
of your dress two christmases ago,
without thinking of your burnt food
and firelight laughter and slow-dancing
in your bedroom to fast music.
I still can't sleep on your side of the bed;
nevertheless
I remember you less clearly; have forgotten
what your hands felt like going through my hair,
no longer know the precise melody of your voice
when you got angry, no longer know the intonation
of 'I love yous' from your lips, and I no longer
wish to know.
and so although I am forever loving you
I am in love & letting go.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
1. (photographs; kaleidoscopes)
I tried to capture you
in words, the way you were, the way
with each relentless second
you would never be again.
2. (words were not enough)
because
a) language is a frail medium
for the powerful; the overwhelming;
b) emotions are shifting, & imprecise.
3. (I tried, a thousand times, to say)
how I found in you the wonder I had always looked for;
always missed.
4. (we can choose how we react)
how rare and beautiful
it is — to me — that you exist.
5. (you)
your hurricane eyes
twilight smiles
shoulders
where
have you
been?
6. (define morning as a feeling, not a time of day)
what did you think about when you poured your coffee and did you feel relieved when you heard the sound of rain? what colour was the daylight; and does love ever happen to you, in the traffic of rush hour?
7. (I said)
“come on --
let me take you home”.
“I am here” she said “you are it”
8. (he asked me)
"have you ever been in love with someone you knew you couldn’t have?”
I’ve never been anything else.
9. (a single green light across the bay)
I will rearrange my life around your meaningless smiles —
when love is not returned to us,
we will never stop looking for it.
10. (holding on and letting go)
there is a space between breaths and heartbeats — an endless moment, the infinite, an entr’acte in the operas of unrequited love.
11. (simply because I found her irresistible)
and yet that’s what we do, isn’t it?
we hang onto hope —
in every hopelessly irrational way that we can.
12. (and so part of me is always a fool)
I will wait for you forever.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
you liked
red nail polish &
the smell of gasoline;
the molecular structure
of oxygen.
you liked orchestras,
dinner candles in empty bottles,
the sound of moving trains, you
stole
cheap ballpoint pens
& you father’s new cigars.
you played philip glass on the piano,
put too much ice in your whiskey,
only ever cried in the shower.
you only owned one DVD.
you used newspapers
to light fires in flower pots but
never read them —
you got the news from the radio
in the car, when stuck
in traffic. you ran red lights,
balanced on the edge
of the universe as if
life
was a tightrope
or some nihilistic punchline.
you had the courage of stars
and wildfire eyes — I tried
to find myself
outside of you.
you called me ‘baby’ and burnt
my lungs
with your perpetual cigarettes
&
I cannot
forget
you.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC