Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
1
In constant consonance
Love, in it's minimalistic sonata
Plays a slow stitched waltz
Into the cough syrup
Haze of memories

2
When love was just a
Second-hand suggestion
A rebellious rose
Reaching recklessly
For a remarkable reaction
Finds a score left unfinished
From years past

3
In pointe shoes
Two bodies dance a
Painful coloratura
Yet in the midst of
This pa de deux
Love remembers contentment
It wasn't expected
The way her hand
Intertwined with mine
Beauty snuggled gently
Into my skin
And slowly confidence
Grasped back
I left a little of my love for her in the waters edge.
The rise and fall of the tide, tinted gold by sunset.
I remember how she loves the beach.
The feeling of warmth,
Being kissed by the sun,
cooled by the bubbling serine waters.
I left a little of my love for her in my dance shoes.
The twinkles of a rhythm in every step of tele-tones.
The beauty and hardship in my grishkos.
I remember how much she loves to dance.
The energy in her body as she danced across a floor.
Lightning, glowing plasma moving strong and sharp.
Summoning pure love for her craft with every step.
I remember how she could completely change for a dance,
Become someone, something, so different from the girl I saw inside.
I left a little of my love In the music.
Allowing my fingers to play for more love,
More love.
Kissing each note that left my lips
Telling them
Find her,
Reach my love for me
Each note sung for her like a siren
‘Feel my love. Know it. It is the truest thing of me.
It is my song.’
She always said she loved my voice.
And and I would sing only for her.
I left a little of my love in the poetry.
In FaceTime chats,
Helping her write lines for class,
Her flustered tones,
As she struggled writing the prose
That so easily came to me in starlight.
When I was in love.
Every poem was about her,
My love.
The lines of my heartstrings
Written in rhythmic prose
I could have written about her forever,
How her hair bounced like fizzy pop
The way she walked,
As if she were always onstage.
I fell in love with the rhyme in her steps.
I left a little of my self with her
I don’t know if she can feel it.
The love I left with her,
A letter with a return address.
She may never send it back,
But it will always be there in her,
In friendship.
I am waiting for the first meeting
To relive the first time we talked.
I do not need lost love,
Yet I miss friendship lost in time step,
The amity in backstage jokes,
And crocheted scarves.
So
Should she ever need love,
I will always be here for her.
There are moments
When I think I’m over you
The way you held my hand
Tightly, as if to make sure I was there
The way you looked at me
Lovingly, as if I mattered
The way you hugged me
Willingly, I didn’t have to ask
The way you talked to me
Honestly, so I didn’t feel stupid
Then in a moment
Remembrance of the way you left
Fled so quickly
As if I didn’t matter
There was no goodbye
Only sorry
I was not good enough
Not worth trying for
Then in a moment
I think of you as you are now
So happy
So free
And I smile
Your happy
And that’s what matters
I cherish what was
And I’m happy for what is
The pain is something worth coping with
And in a moment
I am over you again
Sitting on the gloss ebony bench of the stand up, I think of you. The shine of the ivory keys reminds me of your smile. Brilliant pearl teeth pulled back to the most stunning smile. Almost always your head tilted slightly to the right.
Placing my hands on the chilled keys, the air conditioner on even in these winter days. I think of your old house with the ever opened door, and the fan making ambient noise in the background. The way I would always joke to my friends that you were very hot, and the shocked look on their face that I used common day slang to describe looks. The laugh I would hold back as only I knew I was describing the seemingly everlasting heat in your house, and the small amount of night clothes you wore because of it.
Looking through sheet music, I fish through the book for a song to play. Frustrated and unable to find any of them interesting, I play random chords. Stringing notes together I hit a single note, and suddenly a song comes to mind. Nameless, I hit D6 again, then again. Like nostalgia slowly my right hand reminisces to the next note, and the next, left hand taking after it. Slowly my hands flood the keys with memories, melodies reminding me of the way you would dance. Each movement linked to the next, as if it were a fluid conversation.
Slowly my eyes begin to fill with tears and I begin to shake. Eyes filling to the brim, I swallow the pain in my throat and allow myself to finish the song. Last notes reminding me of how it had all started. The simplicity in a simple greeting, and the resonate sound of your absence.
Hitting the last chord I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes, and sit at the piano, willing myself, not to give into the emotions I feel. I know better than to express that sort of emotion. It’s utterly useless to express emotional pain. It only takes away and never gives. Optimism is a gift to others. If you express your sadness it will only allow you to get used to showing it. I’ve learned it’s better to hide it.
Hearing my father walking into the hallway, I place my hands on the keys and tilt my head down. Feigning contemplation, and smiling as he passes. He asks if I’m making progress, and forcing a laugh I say yes. So he moves to the door on the other end of the room and leaves for the backyard.
Looking back the keys, I force a grin. Hoping I can smile the pain away. Chest tightening as I reach for the binder of musical theater songs next to the piano. Remembering when I had first bought it to hold a song I planned to learn for you. Opening it, I find the song in side pocket.
“Prologue”
1

1:00am in the morning dark
I take breath of vapor
And a swig from a jar

2

I’m trying to escape
But the glass is slippery
It’s an upward incline
Almost straight but curved just so
Like a smirk as I tumble just bellow

3

The liquids like fire
It Burns
But I like it
A crutch like so many before
But an item
Not a person
So much more dependable.
A item cannot leave you
You must loose it
Or leave it yourself

4

Looking at an almost empty bottle
I cry out
No tears come
But ripples crack the surface as I shake
I used to cry
But misery scared
Left tears behind.

5

Pain claws through vocal chords
To strained to speak
I will not cry
I will not wail
Speaking scares people away
brings pain. The loss in broken rings.
As the sun rises peaking behind
Tinted mountains
I smile
Red ribbons tie a mask.
I am optimistic
I am happy
I will be what is needed
I will never again lose someone from sadness
I Am Happy
I watch for the butterflies
Everywhere
I see them
Floating in air
Prophets to my eyes
They fly alone
Together
They drift
Come together
Die…
They show me the future
And that’s how I know
Where the chrysalis grows
And when it will hatch
Of Happiness
Or
Sadness
Just the same for my path
Next page