Ever pulled a freshly made soon to be fruit roll up
from cool wax paper?
That's what your words do to me.
Half of them fleshy and colored with ingredients boiled down
and the other
smoothed and nearly transparent.
Still, which part will I wind up eating in the end?
There's always a piece of foil.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
Through twisted clouds he breathed
and in a moment heaved
a burden called many names
but only ever seen
as circles beneath his eyes.
Thoughts I will never hear
Explanations remain unclear
reasons untouchable by me
mistakenly I tried
greeted by his echoed sighs.
And it's a test of endurance
for whomever you know feels this
knowing the gloom
is inhaled as a heady mist
Also once inside them
it may never be torn out
and they will need you to stay
to recap what Friendship is about.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
The soft encasement of our footsteps on damp grass,
cold which slowly seeps into my cloth made shoes
eventually to carry up my ankles, through and through
we sit on the old trailer, looking up
to a sky of but few stars, most hidden save the dippers
and our small talk begins to chorus with
the symphony of the night while we grant ourselves
permission to bypass such warning labels that
we've been wearing for the past year.
The past is the past, or so I've told myself
you've endorsed this new policy of "no regrets"
and sweep your tongue not only over my neck
but across beliefs held close for so long
I know not what to do with you, for I am leaving you
to an unknown I've learned of over and over again
merely by walking the same path in circles with you
and those circles have permeated a spell around my heart
which tends to seek, and return to you.
The change that corresponds between us displaces goodbye
we've tried so many times and the word is not strong enough
to cut the stem that is our understanding of one another which
stretches out between us over a sea of all that is flowing forward
dividing our worlds, placing us on separate sands
though we sit so closely now that our gazes still connect
in the dark where the moon hovers in a cloudless sky
and you've missed each shooting star that has flown
for the entire time, you were looking at me.
In bodies ever so familiar, our recognizable outer shells
we relax there for a while
because in the name of human decency, in our closeness
you and I may be gazing up at the stars talking about cats now
but I know that this is how we are waving across a vast sea
and if all of this flowery talk
is to be swallowed up by the night's shadows
as the cold continues towards my core and drives us inside
as our steps are forgotten by the damp lawn
I know, for truth, that goodbye does not quite blanket our history.
Yet, may a good-night lay to rest such things.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
Never let it slip your mind
the older ***** becomes
the slower they move
remaining longer within earshot
shuffling in what other's say to
the crooked bones of their bodies.
They have learned the lesson of trees
to be still, and have a thick skin
perhaps if you weathered the young
and all that young lips say
you too would be "hard of hearing"
and blame it on going gray.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
And somehow
by breaking all the rules with you
we broke one another
And we're clinging so tightly now
I worry that a part of you fell behind
and I'm the only one
Who will ever miss it enough to continuously
Turn around
And see what we really were
Strewn about across this desolate land decorated with ourselves.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC
There is a thing called Forever
it can be a scary thing
it watches you when you wake
notices when you sleep
hears every light whisper
knows every secret you keep
holds in its hands all you love
and at its feet all your hopes
your dreams hang from above
and everywhere it mopes
Forever is unknowable
for Time gave birth to it
because Time loved Uncertainty
so much that they had to be together
Forever.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
There is an ecosystem of conflict thriving in my brain.
A world with questions for residents and doubts for landscapes.
I’m not sure if I’m actually reaching for answers right now,
although something in my soul aches.
Those landscapes are parched
and turning to deserts under the sun the residents have named:
Uncertainty.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
Perhaps it is in nothingness
that there is true power
for in being nothing means
to have room to become.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
Sometimes the way I see contentment isn’t a vast plain of rolling hills
with no peaks and sweet abandon all there at once.
Sometimes for me it comes in pieces that are sharp around the edges.
I have to hold them a certain way
and then I get to feel the smoothness of the moment
as my thoughtful nerves relax a little.
Sometimes if I have enough of them to fit together
there’s enough room for something to grow.
Like hope, or a fantasy, a mild happiness.
I section each thing off so that it neither reproduces nor withers
returning to them when everything gets cold.
Sometimes I go back to those pieces
and the detached state leaves me confused as to
why it meant so much when I found it. I stumble over them,
they break, I don’t think of them for a while.
Sometimes the new pieces I find would go great with the old
if only I had the right parts of each to make another bed
to grow some emotion out of.
And sometimes, I don’t bother with any of it.
Eventually it hits me, that each piece is fine for a moment
Although, I have not the skill
to make my own vast plain out of broken shards nor the expertise
to know just how sharp/fragile each one is before I grab it.
So they come and go.
But no matter where they are around me
they are impossible to dismiss entirely.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC