There were times I thought
about not thinking about it,
aborting its fruition.
One final hug,
one final glance,
the marble floor colder than before.
And that was it.
What felt so foreign felt so adoring,
what felt so right was so wrong.
My soul a frozen climber clinging for life,
unaware he’s freezing.
Starting first in his knuckles,
spreading through his veins,
finishing in his heart.
It was snowing,
two,
three feet at a time.
Each snowflake staring at me in desperation,
tacit gasps dismantled by the concrete.
if only I heard their heckles,
their pains,
their signs,
their wisdom.
What astute advice they gave I’ll never know,
but I thank each one.
I found love,
and gave it back.
Studied myself, and came right back.
It became its own fruition.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
Something about eating a bagel
toasted with butter
With Blue Eye's, "World on a String,"
playing in the Manhattan morning keeps me alive.
I know if I can make it here
I can make it anywhere
But why?
What about these stone cold sidewalks
or disgruntled cab drivers
or sewer rats of colossal size
intrigues me?
Is it odd that 8 million people on 1 island
seems serene to me?
My thoughts more room to fly
My ideas more people to share with
One more bite
Before the Final Curtain
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
Clinging to comfort, fearing abandonment,
Who dares the self-empowering act of separation?
In what position do you conclude your
Worthiness to reign supreme in such fertile moments?
Rhetorical of course, for a physical battle is but absent,
‘Tis only a tacit exchange of venom between two souls.
Always present, but selective with its encounters,
I wait not for your presence, and sleep consciously eager.
And that who equivocates tear drops with victories,
You subsequently turn hand when we conjoin.
When moments turn into years, I ask only for more.
How audacious to criticize your offerings am I.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 10:14 AM UTC
Maliciously backpedaling, every ripple of pain is a direct puncture.
This tirade is short lived, even before I see the light.
We’ll be fine, for the reflection off your pearly whites,
Gives and ambiguous notion of assurance that serenades my emotions.
To an extent, I rejoice that this distance fills the void,
For weighing us both down would be sinful.
But there is no silicone strong enough to fill every hold.
And this is why my apology rings even louder.
Like a setting sun on the Long Island Sound,
Our harmony asserts superior beauty,
Or a mirror image of what happiness is to be scripted,
Only our act in this Broadway still awaits.
Taps reminds me of our fragile wall,
But doesn’t cover my emotional Spouts.
Stubborn at times, and never with warning,
You’re ruthless, yet gracious, explosion remains unseen.
I long for the opportunity, where this violent
Number reaps no fallout and instead translates to love.
A world where pugnacious affection is welcomed,
We battle with only the weapons of fidelity.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC