Jim Marchel Apr 18

How can I love
When my coffee pot is only half full
Because you're not here anymore
To smile with me every morning?

How can I love
When I still find your hair in my car
And can't bear to throw it away
Because it's the only piece of you I have left?

How can I love
When the same sun warms our faces
But you're not here for me to cool
Your lips with an iced tea kiss?

How can I love
When my coffee pot is only half full
Because I didn't make enough for three
When I called off work without a warning?

"I've made the bed, now go and sleep with him."
Jim Marchel Mar 31

I wanted it to be you
I bled for it to be you
I prayed for it to be you
But there was always someone else
In my bed

Jim Marchel Feb 2

I like letters better
When they're rearranged
Into your name

The best love letters write themselves.
Jim Marchel Jan 28

The wind whispered softly along
As if not to bother the sleeping child in its cradle,
The angry trees about to lose their beauty,
And the neighborhood paperboy on his bicycle with his scarf wrapped tightly around his face.

The wind caressed the crystal flakes that fell from the heavens
As if to console the father whose son was sacrificed in distant war,
The daughter who was destined to walk the aisle without a father,
And the excited mother-to-be whose child was stillborn after months of tender love and care.

The wind calmly strolled down 8th Street
Where the early workers stood in line for a bagel and brew,
Where children gathered near the corner filled with vigor and youth,
Where tall giants of steel and stone shone with haughty pride and modern couth.

The wind whispered softly along
The curves and wrinkles of my face
As my life forever changed,
But it was just another day
To the wind.

Jim Marchel Jan 14

Go back to your black-and-white world

Void of color and warmth

And of depth and of passion.

Go ahead and crawl back behind

Pages of guilt and chapters of pain.

Hide your face with the cover

Of the latest Roth novel

And forget that color and fragrence

And feelings and senses

Exist.

This is a follow-up to a poem about color I wrote previously, "What Friends Are For". It's a personal piece, about a former friend who is color-blind who really took me for granted, especially after I invested in glasses for him to be able to see the world in color. It gave me a new perspective on cliché proverbs already floating around, but this one is mine: Not everyone will be able to see the color you bring into their lives, but that doesn't mean you aren't a colorful being.
Jim Marchel Jan 13

I stare at walls and see her there

A flower-printed love affair

Her azure-striped and plastered hair

Are cracked but perfect, everywhere.

Her skin of beige, it ripples soft

Across my palms when I get lost

I feel her smooth and supple skin

When I can't think and need to sin.

But here is now, and now is then

I'm staring at my walls again

Each one reminds me of the face

Of fallen angels barred from grace.

I see her in my head
I see her on my walls.
Jim Marchel Jan 1

There is a big difference
Between leaving behind cold tracks
In the snow
And lending a warm hand to lead.

Don't just be a footprint in someone's life when you have the power to be so much more.
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