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 Nov 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
I took my time today.
I walked the way I used to walk with you,
not worrying about where the next step took me.
I missed two buses.
I got home half an hour late.
Or early.
It doesn’t matter anymore,
everything is relative.
Next week will be this week.
Yesterday is already tomorrow.
I’ve always heard that time is cruel;
too quick when you want it,
too slow when you don’t.
I’m not really sure what to think anymore,
because it’s been three months,
but I still think about you every day.
 Nov 2013 Analise Quinn
SE Reimer
thirty-six years ago 
by their count 
just last week
a german girl 
with irish roots
swept lanky, 
blonde-haired 
blue-eyed lad 
from off his feet

she with hazel eyes 
that change by whim 
of brunette hair 
and silky skin
his arrival fresh 
from land afar
as appearance goes 
not foreigner 
yet foreign still 
in his homeland 
to he it was 
but fairyland

first sight a playground 
football game
same name but different 
than he’d played
their first date 
a corner burger stand
suited him, though 
not very grand

what she saw 
is still unclear
this blue-eyed lad 
from yesteryear

suffice to say 
he’s grateful she did 
and she still does
and to this day
has kept up her promise
to honor forever
and always love

and he 
knowing some say 
marriage is not their cup
he knows
(this blonde 
and blue-eyed lad)
he knows for sure...
he married 
**up!
sweet sixteen carried a different meaning...
the year of his resident arrival on US soil,
a novelty to him, and he to all who came to know him in those early days;
October 23rd, 1977,
the date of their first date,
each year passes with little fanfare by anyone else,
but the two of them,
who now more in love than ever before,
look knowingly at each other and say,
"remember when?"
 Oct 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
I’ve gone through uncountable cups of coffee
over the past few months,
but none of them ever quite taste the same
as the first one I’ve had.
Sometimes not enough cream,
other times too much sugar;
always without you
on the other side of the table.
 Oct 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
I leave the lights off whenever I get home now.
My eyes don’t care much for looking around these days.
My heart was never big enough to get lost in anyways.
They say we haven’t seen most of the ocean floor,
but I could tell you all about it right now.
And that’s okay.
I’m not okay,
but I’m okay.
Even the sea must let go sometimes
and trust that its tides know where
they must be.
Even the waves know it takes time
before they can be free.
I don’t need light to see that darkness
knows how to wait patiently.
And I’m not scared of the dark anymore,
since I’ve realized that it’s just a part of me.
 Sep 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
Some nights I’m not filled with words,
I’m just filled with so much of you.
You’re making more space in this ribcage;
it was always saving a spot
for your heart anyways.
You give the moon light to reflect,
and I swear the stars would fall for you tonight.
 Sep 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
I woke up early today.
There’s no point in continuing to sleep
when I’m no longer dreaming about you.
Every hour through the night is spent
with you inside my head,
and sometimes my mind makes me forget it
so I’ll live it in reality instead.
Last night I dreamed that everything you’ve done
was done all over, except this time with me.
You might not have even noticed,
but I was there.
I saw your face change with the seasons,
and your heart change with them too.
I saw how you handled rainy days
when the sky refused to be blue.
I was there while you sat up through the night,
through the day.
I was there for every smile
and every mistake.
I was there.
And I’m still here.
It’s rainy outside today,
but I’m happier than ever.
You might be there,
I might be here,
but I’ll see you again tonight.
 Sep 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
Love is not four letters put together.
It’s you and me laying underneath the night sky
on a blanket too small to fit both of us.
It’s me wanting your eyes more than
any of the stars above us.
Love is not the words found on our lips.
It’s the silence I found your heart in at 3 am.
It’s the silence you found mine in too.
Love doesn’t live inside our hearts.
It’s carved into our bones.
It itches in our fingers.
Love is what keeps the pieces inside of me
together when I feel your hand brush mine.
And on the days that leave you at your weakest,
I will pull you close and remind you
that I’m still here,
and love is not just a feeling.
It was never just a feeling.
It’s the liquid you’ve put in my veins.
It’s the warmth I feel
when I wake up every morning.
I’m all out of metaphors.
To put it quite simply:
love is what I see in you.
And you are beautiful;
every piece.
 Sep 2013 Analise Quinn
Chris
My back has been sore the past week.
I’ve spent too much time
picking up pieces
that I should have left on the ground.
It’s okay to fall apart.
I’ve heard people say
you can put yourself
back together.
I say you can’t.
You must grow new pieces.
The old ones don’t fit.
They will never fit.
You must grow new pieces.
It will hurt.
It will take time.
But by the time you’re finished
you will be filled with
what keeps stars from burning up.
There will be nothing that can
dim your glowing heart,
nothing that can break your
burning bones.
No one will be able to steal
the sunlight in your fingers.
I know some nights will shatter you.
You will fall apart.
It’s okay to fall apart,
because you will grow new pieces.
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