Alex Day: Poems

Dec 2017 · 761

Alex Day Dec 2017

as a young,
fragile girl,
i conjured only
longing poems

wishing girl,
waiting girl
yearning girl–
always searching,
     girl

dreaming of a
life and a love
unmatched, she
sat      patiently

painting a future
sure to hold heartache,
but never    rage,
but never    fear

wishing girl,
she knew the day
would come when
her heart would
find it–

the soft place to land,
the hand to hold,
the gentle warmth
of a lover who
wouldn’t keep score–

here,   the glory of fate
here,   the kindness
she’d been awaiting
fell right into her lap

longing girl, the pain
of existence may still
cut deep into bone

hurt of ghosts past
may still        linger

but the future is here.
there’s a soft place
to lay your heavy
head              here,

we can rest,  Knowing
the future was in us
all we had to do was
stop waiting for it
to come to         us

#recovery #love #saving #myself

Dec 2017 · 222

burning girl

Alex Day Dec 2017

burning girl

WHAT IS IT YOU WANT FROM HER?
the sweltering hot of her eyes on me | her words on my neck like the Pacific Northwest shoreline, horizon bleeding into ocean | an endless life with her, my muse, and I, her rock | the touch of her fingertips on mine like a blue-bright fire, turning her ashes back to phoenix | a symphony in major key, a full marching band playing in 5/4 time, when she lets me brush her hair from her face | the light in her eyes will dance as we do

WHAT ABOUT THE PAIN?
what of the pain? I’ve felt the worst there is | give me a life filled with love and I will take the hurt, take the bitterness, take the Hardness and make it soft as i always have | give me a lover who will open Her arms to me and welcome my uninhibited adoration without hesitation and I will ache for her when she has gone | if I just get to touch the palms of her hands, Lord, I will be grateful for the heartache

WHO IS SHE?
she is the lighthouse and I am the ****** | she is the ****** and I am the lighthouse | or maybe she is the Siren and I am the seaweed through which she navigates to lure men to their death | she is the smell of hot asphalt after a summer rain, she is Spite, she is Greed, she is Bitterness, she is all-consuming | she is Rage and beauty and she encompasses me with her softness and I will adore her | her tenacity is earth-shattering, and if she must leave me, I pray she will grant me the honor of breaking me

WHAT IF SHE STAYS, WHAT THEN?
Mussorgsky’s Hopak will forever play in our home-- we will dance with agile, joyous togetherness through our kitchen, hands and faces covered in flour | my heart will know pain, will know ache, but nothing of longing | she will, I pray, wake every day knowing that she is the softest of kisses to the cheek, she is the feeling of sleeping on brisk summer evenings with nothing but a sheet to cover your feet, she is, in all her flaws, Holy, and Burning

Dec 2017 · 190

nightbloomer

Alex Day Dec 2017

nightbloomer

what happens when you’re missing her?
through the blush of the petal of the casablanca lily,
there, you see? where the light gets fractured
by the veins? she dances on the other side,
shadow swaying in time with her short-lived petal sister.

loving her was like lying on my back
in a thirsty, lifeless wheat field,
watching fervently as clouds of dust
roll their way towards me.

while eventually my lungs are itching
and, with every breath, i feel the
sting of sand and dirt against the softness
at the back of my throat; in front of me,
there, as darkness swallows us whole….

my casablanca lily, she blooms.

in the moments of the modest unraveling
of her petals, she dances through her
good-byes with an ineffable ease.

if you can hear any last words from me,
nightbloomer, let me write them here.
you always did love my poetry; what better
way to eulogize my love for you?

loving you was like walking into quicksand
wearing shoes of gold, or lead.
like coming back to the places our souls touched
to remind myself of you.

like taking a picture of every lily i pass,
being sure to get the veins and creases in focus.

what happens when you miss me?
does your chest ache when you hear those
first few beats of the songs we sang together?
do you skip the painful ones,
or do you put them on repeat?

i hope you do.
i hope food loses its taste.
i hope you find yourself cold
without me, i hope you
become inconsolable,
beside yourself with grief.

finally, i want to be the veins
that fracture the light.

Dec 2017 · 253

out-of

Alex Day Dec 2017

out-of

getting you
out of my skin,
my head,
out from underneath
my fingernails
(i’ve bled, god, how i’ve bled)
has taken some Digging,
some maneuvering
it’s taken (un)learning
reconfiguring
of all the molecules in me
see, i’ve always thought we were
one in the same.
your soul connected to mine,

our beings intertwined
having come from the same star
or galaxy
i’ve always thought we were written
in the moon,

our love destined
to be told through
to the end
by the tides

(you wore over me for
billions of years,
turning my hardness into
crumbling sand,
weaving canyons into my
rock)

but only in losing you did i finally realize,
even souls created together,
seemingly brought together by the fate of
their common roots,
can be destined to grow apart

Dec 2017 · 185

a prayer

Alex Day Dec 2017

a prayer

i am touching you
without hands,
and you know.

i am singing for you,
silently, just a humming
in my chest,
and you know.

i can only hope,
can only pray,
you'll touch me, too.

you'll sing for me, too.

Dec 2017 · 192

elusive

Alex Day Dec 2017

elusive

touching my hands to my face
is like petting yours;
if i close my eyes, i can
pretend i'm better than i am.
my fingertips try to register
solely the sensation of skin.

for a second, i consider putting ice to my cheek,
a numbing agent,
so i can keep the daydream alive,
so i won't ever forget the soft roughness of your skin,

something to help quell
the ache in my gut.
the hollows of an empty hand could
shatter me, but for a moment,

lying in my bed alone, i swear it's like i can touch you.

Dec 2017 · 507

i met them in a dream

Alex Day Dec 2017

i met them in a dream

not just water or air
could fill my body
with the gentle force
that the tides do, and
so it is with you--

not just your kiss,
your smile,
the cold of your
hands on me

just out of reach,
the same power that
brings sea to shore
is behind us, or
around us

there's vulnerability
in the way i even
think your name.

#love #twin #flame #soul #mate

— The End —