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Dec 2013 · 367
Always My Three - Age 24
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
As day hazed over to night somewhere over my home I sat in awe during the midnight flight how the ground became constellations of civilizations
     And cities flickered like embers
                      From a fire ready to ignite,
Awaiting a reason, a cause to be in awe at, to fight for, to be vibrant with life for
    Thoughts over seconds in a sky took shape and now spark my soul, my dulled living,
                                           To be more
To look for more
      I’ve had too many weeks of mundane that pale in comparison to those few seconds
    Like the horizon haze there has to be a way to blend and thread those seconds through those weeks to create a life better lived
It’s a spark worth pursuing and this,
               24 Is the year
Dec 2013 · 717
Memory Rains - Age 24
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
I walked home in the rain today
                               Holding an umbrella
                Unopened and unused

The rain felt like memories
    Of Europe at 24 and first love at 17
                              It was a well worn path home, but it felt like
                     Adventure
It shared the same grey skies as London, where I left my heart for healing

     I wondered, if this rain, if it too could wash away everything life had stained me with
   If across places and spaces rain held a baptismal purity
If it’d always hold interwoven fingers and venice beaches
     Thunder field kisses and a vibrant life reclaimed

Or

If like the storm, it held the promise of this too shall pass
   If in time the priority would be to stay dry

Forgetting the sweetness of rain
   Of picnic table romances
Of European adventures

                                      Losing the beauty of life
   When rain could taste of hope
                    Feel like memories
                                Inspire poetry

And take an ordinary day and
Make it art
<3
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
He was electric bad news
    With a soulful garage sound that spelled trouble
  I wanted to be the woman I reformed from years ago, that took wedding rings as a challenge
                  Not a mistake

If we’d been alone perhaps opportunity would have made us both weeds
    In a crowd his fingers grazed, lingered, and caressed my arm
Hand felt strong, heavy on my shoulder
                 Inspiring a mental masterpiece of where else            they could be
       Forbidden attraction pulsed through the air between us

We were electric for one night in Minnesota where nothing happened
    But the what ifs and could haves left sweet sin stained dreams in his absence
   Morning broke with electric bad news on a plane, me questioning who I’ve really become and wondering if at any point he felt the same.
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Tempting Sparks - Age 24
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
Ive been feeling electric, sparking, waiting for ignition
   Confused, longing for release
     Finding close calls with the unavailable
Wondering what about sin makes us feel more vibrantly alive
   Praying for a fated spark, brought by His will
                      Resisting temptation
But remembering electric bad news mouth on my ear
  A friend’s body language
     A student’s eyes searching mine in a 4 hour exchange
A woman in heartbreak
        Cryptic messages from my heart’s interpretation and friendship from available options
   Trying to be the better version I’ve become while the past me slips me bad ideas
     Through seductive lips and sensual whispers
I feel on the verge
   I want all the bad ideas, the intensity almost hurts but

I’m waiting for the fated interaction
     Hoping it’s worth the wait
                         Staying electric
Impatient
         Revved
                  Sparking
                            Hoping
                                     Strong
                                             <3
Dec 2013 · 738
Sky Thoughts - Age 24
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
As day hazed over to night somewhere over my home I sat in awe
     During a midnight flight how the ground became constellations of civilizations
        How a power plant with the right illumination becomes a master piece
  At the connections and networks we cultivate in this digital age drive us apart
    Move us away from brilliance
From connection
    Muting us with hyper stimulation
Distracting us with safe delusions
    How the lighting and perspective can make a lie look like nature and a person feel like heaven
How electricity was once a vibrancy within us, that radiated from the gifted through creation and how now
    It’s a drug, dulling us, a societal dependency
With no one left to stage the intervention
    There’s a beauty in the illusion
       In the man made constellations  of life
But there’s life in disconnecting  to find our electricity
Our humanity
Our hope
<3
Chris Hollermann Dec 2013
My heart felt heavy in the spaces of your musical farewell
        
      I knew then, with certainty I lacked before, that I cared for you
    Far more than our prescribed roles allowed for
             I knew then, as you played your own composition,
     That I’d failed you in some ways
             But in others I still wondered --- about hours that felt like minutes, about how the time between us was art
   Something in all that I am found home in something you are
       It screams within me for more time and less boundaries neither of us can give

You’ll leave soon, the urgency to make meaning is stifling because I’m afraid I could love you
              But will never know
                            You’ll build a life, one you’ve already planned and I’ll miss you like crazy, wishing I’d been around for the planning years before
    Forever changed by thoughts and stars in November
Changed by thoughts and stars of you
during our only season

I’ll send some light and love when I think of you, of our maybe, perhaps, our almost
    When you feel the air exchange in and out
        It carries my thoughts; a little light and a little love
From one, of two people, whose only regret wasn’t the mistakes either of them made
     But simply
  That we didn’t have more time.
Jun 2011 · 566
Grief
Chris Hollermann Jun 2011
A visitor rang at my door late one night, an old friend,
Taking his hand in mine without words we held no identity and breathed as one,
He held a bag of emptied hearts and broken spirits
His eyes held the burden of truth,
We knew, in the silent darkness, the way only hearts can, our parting that night would be short lived
A few days more my door rang again and there with his bag he slipped right in,
I heard all the words he had to say, all the truths he’d forced me to face and begged him to go
Sadly he shook his head, kissed my forehead and took residence in my bed,
I fought and persuaded, pushed , and hung my head defeated
This old friend, he told no lie,
That time for now was no friend of mine,
He never left my side in those months to come, in return I dropped my contributions into his bag,
His hand stay tightly woven in mine as my eyes witness the cancer take so much from the youthful angel, the world only briefly could know,
My friend, he saw this too, he’d wept with me weeks before, and for so many yet to come promising never to leave, at least never for long,
I collapsed into him, into his tragic security
As a loved one slipped away to death he slid into my home
His name was grief and while I live neither he nor I will be alone

— The End —