they never talk about the trees
with history so shaped by poetry,
tales of the aesthetic and also
the way in which the light bands
across the delicacy of skin along her neck,

how could they neglect the trees?
the source of which material you deface
litter with your soliloquies and your...
your scrappings of failed attempts to...
how could you not devour them?
with all your grand metaphors and
your passing, blindly romantic drabbles

the pen is mightier than the sword
so turn your weapon towards
your blank canvas battlefield
and write of the trees
revel in the symphony
note the calibre
of such leaves as they thrive
and not just fly but soar
oh, and recall the aching;
the bark can only withstand the wind
for so very long

before the unstoppable force
renders the immovable object

a hopeless nothing on the forest floor

tell me,
if you fell so completely
with not a soul around to witness you
did you ever really fall at all?

you know that option for signing yourself off in a card
not simply 'love' or even 'lots of love'
the one with the deeper meaning
the more you think about it
the more it becomes

yours truly
these two words put together have different intentions
there's the 'yours truly' that serves a kind, platonic message
there's the 'yours truly' that's meant for business, formal and mandatory
but the one this poem happens to be about
is the one you write when you want that person to know
.... well, wouldn't that be telling?

it's a game of interpretation
dependent on dynamic
not only in the world of cards
but in life, in literature, in love

see i've had 18 years to ponder this
and, you see, the phrase 'yours truly'
always reminds me, somehow, of pride & prejudice
another 'most ardently'
it's one of those phrases
that isn't just a phrase
it's a message
an intention

i have never been 'yours truly'
not until i met you
in a world where intimacy = romance
there's you and i
more than family
in words not yet discovered
not yet in the dictionary
i could describe us
but that time has not yet come
and i reckon i'll never find the right words
i doubt i could even find the wrong ones

nothing has ever really come close
nothing but yours truly
because you see
that's the truth of it, brother
i am truly yours
and i know what you're thinking
this sounds like a love poem
and you'd be right
it's just not a romantic one

i am yours, truly
truly yours
yours truly
in any way you arrange these two words
it's perfectly describing you and i
yours - because i belong to and with you in a way i never have with anyone else
truly - because i couldn't think of a greater truth

yours truly meaning;
a walking, talking anchor, a source of comfort
a however long phone call, a casual distraction in the form of a chat
a sentinel at your side, whether physically or not, i'm with you
a sister, a brother, a substitute for all and any family you might need
a warm, breathing reminder that you are not a **** up, because here i remain
a portable, perfectly willing cushion, a simple solution to touch starvation
a buddy for those long nights where sleep escapes the both of us, a comrade in insomnia
a single, everstanding, ever dilligent and passionate reason to continue living, another life you have saved
a fellow adventurer, a fan of not just the things you love but the things you love and owe your happiness to
a stubborn loyalty, a fierce, angry, vengeful power that will never dim and never die out, a companion in the worst of times
a reason you can rest your weary body at the end of every day and every night without fear of the nightmares or abandonment

so george
this is a shambles
a rambling mess
but the point has always been
that i
am
yours truly,

alistair.

when we die
our lifeline amounts
to nothing more
than a straight line

but when we're alive
our line spikes and flies

so knowing this
doesn't it make so much sense
that we feel most alive
when riding rollercoasters
and soaring through the skies?

when we sleep
are we in actuality
rehearsing our death?

imitating that solitary line
or following that erratic pulse
that stand to prove our mortality

a small fascination
with two lines
and simple parallels.

oh, you
you're shades of blue
the calm of a daily sky
the depths of the vast ocean
the ice that shrouds your being
but i have more than examples
you're blue because you're sad
and there's a reason
that a child will always choose
a blue crayon over the rest
when asked to depict sorrow

you're blue because you're apathy
sometimes you seem to care less
about those closest to you
than those you haven't even met
i really hate to say it
but on regretful occasion
you seem more selfish
than simply apathetic

oh, and you
you're shades of red
the tenderness of amore
the flash of thunderous anger
the trickle of blood from a vein
as always, there are more than examples
you're red because you're intense
and i don't know how to shake you
how to make you
realise what you're doing to me
there's a reason
red depicts the strongest feelings

as for you?
you're a bright, strobe like
sickly and arrogant
y e l l o w

because you're annoying.