Chris

Chris Jul 2013

If your heart engulfs the ocean,
and your hands become the shore,
then I’ll rest upon the grains
until I become no more.

Chris Jul 2013

untitled 128

I’m looking for it again.
I’m looking for the place that feels
as right as 2 am in the middle of the street,
underneath the soft glow of the street light,
right beside the drooping willow
and calming dark forest.
I’m searching for it again.
Because the breeze against my face
reflects the spot along your chest
where my head and your heart became one.
Where all that was left of me came undone.

Chris Jul 2013

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Your eyes replay the times
our weary, shaking fingers crossed,
like the wrinkles in your skin
hold every memory we’ve lost.

Chris Jul 2013

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I’m still searching for the ground,
like I’m the dust and you’re the shelf—
I try to remember a knot is just
something tangled in itself—

Chris Jul 2013

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The early morning is a different world.
One where deep, even breaths
and songbirds keep it alive.
Where drowsy fingers drag across wooden tables,
and warm palms grasp flowing, ceramic hearts.
One where if you listen closely,
you might just hear the deep sigh of
the walls, as they drink deeply
of the morning sunlight.

Chris Jul 2013

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I am the books you’ve never finished,
the pages left unread.
I am the corners you’ve left bent,
and all the lines inside your head.

I am the fading, crooked spine,
with the slightly torn cover.
And when all the words run out,
I am what’s left to be discovered.

Chris Jul 2013

untitled 111

you don’t watch the moon and stars
half as much as I think you should—
please don’t worry about the clouds
a little rain will do you good—

//