infuse my
blood
with the
spark of
your life;
breathe
into my
lungs
your
gentleness.
awaken
a soul
so long
overshadowed
by unshakable
night;
return to
my heartbeat
the vibrancy
i believed
had been
stolen
forever.
help me
to smile
again -
even if
just for a
moment
so kind.
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 10:01 PM UTC
I thought I'd finally
seen the end of
my troubled mind's
seemingly endless
frustration. I suppose
disappointment is
relative to hope?
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
I've never felt this,
this sense of calm.
The calm of another's presence -
of his smooth voice, the softness in his eyes
and their smoldering warmth;
My restless spirit has found a home.
But why must this home
be a comfort so fleeting?
Can I extend this lease?
I fear the roughness of the street,
the harsh realities that loom
in the cold that follows
an inevitable goodbye.
The city is a place
so lonely
for the homeless.
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
It
is time to let go
of juvenile fantasies
about fairytale first love
and what’s ‘meant to be.’
(I accept that).
Yet,
the mind is plagued by
its own resilience
in the aftermath of
heartbreak's
devastation.
(Why must we
hurt ourselves with memories
so sweet?)
Hard
as you may try,
you won’t ever forget
the first person
you let look straight into your soul,
the first person whose eyes interlocked with yours
such that he didn’t even need to tell you
he loved you -
you just knew, and he knew you felt the same
(but you both said it anyway).
You’d never felt so alive.
And
in that moment
(that once in a lifetime moment
when you let your every vulnerability lie
bare on the surface of your skin and
let yourself feel),
in that moment
you’ve set yourself up
to take the strongest dosage of disappointment and pain
that a person can
physically, mentally, and emotionally
endure.
The
‘growing up’ part about first love isn’t falling into it
(that’s natural);
it’s having the strength
to pull yourself up off your knees
and stand strong, stable, and alone
when love’s hourglass has left you
feeling empty.
Time
will heal the wound
(at the dictate of its sovereign hands - not yours);
you’ll just always carry the scar
on your heart
to remind you of that first time you faced love—
blind and naïve,
without the slightest defense,
and quite frankly,
*not giving a ****
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC