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something about the summer air
at 2 a.m.
just after it has rained

i can hear the earth drying
and the flowers going to sleep
or are they waking up?
it is a special kind of quiet
except for the crickets
and cicadas
and the laughter of friends
and couples
(like you and me)
walking home from the bar

the stars and the streetlights are irrelevant
because of the moon
that is painted in one million places -
held by drops of dew
resting on the cars in the lots

i feel the moons
tenderly leave their resting place
to join the fabric on the back of my shirt
i think your hands probably hold
some of them, too

and in this moment
i am thankful to share
my summer air
with you
The depths should
Cry out your name and
The winds ought to whisper
A solemn elegy for you

But Earth kept spinning
And the crowds kept laughing
Oblivious to the fact that
You're suddenly gone

How dare they
Finding happiness
In a world without you?
How could I ever forgive them for not mourning for you...?
inthewater Jun 4
9 years ago
your son was 9, you were forty-two
your wife was nearing forty

I was eighteen
daughter 1, fourteen; daughter 2, thirteen
and daughter 3 was only 6

we've experienced anniversaries,
birthdays, funerals
(my dad, my grandpa, my papa)

breakups, and new boyfriends
(just with your daughters, really)

graduations, retirements,
family arguments
chaos and heartbreak induced by alcoholism,
(and now years of sobriety)

first home purchases
(your daughters and myself)
(your son is living with me this summer)

and a pandemic...

much has happened since June 17th, two thousand and sixteen
but the biggest thing yet
will be this Saturday
June 7th, twenty twenty-five

daughter 1 is twenty-two, now
and in three days she gets married
your son is eighteen, now
and he will walk her down the aisle
(he told me he cries whenever he thinks about it)

your wife is nearly forty-nine
she will be there with her boyfriend
(they moved in together, in the house they built)
(they're both sober)
(she referred to him as her husband the other day)

daughter 3 is fifteen
(she told me she doesn't really remember you)

I am twenty-seven, now
and I will read a passage from the Bible at your daughter's wedding -
(just like I did at your funeral)
My cousin gets married this weekend... feeling very bitter-sweet; her dad died by suicide 9 years ago (anniversary of the death is in two weeks); my dad died unexpectedly three years ago. Reflecting on how life changes, and it also stays the same. My cousin asked me to read a passage at her wedding; 9 years ago, my aunt asked me to read a passage at my uncle's funeral.
I loved a ghost
stitched from soft words
and glances that meant nothing.
I touched a dream
and swore it had a pulse.
And now I grieve
not you-
but the person I thought you were.
inthewater Jun 3
An adage that's stood the test of time...
today, it made me pause and sigh -
does that make me ugly
if I've no one to be held by?
why are these the thoughts occupy my downtime? :')
inthewater May 21
as a girl i was ignorant
of what men's eyes say of their intent -
the things said in silence
when two strangers hold a stare

but, as i've aged I've realized
the things that men say with their eyes  

some men will never betray their heart,
some men only play the part,
and some men don't even know
why some women pull their heart strings so

with the first, they'll only show
what's truly in his heart and soul;
they'll never lead you with a lie -
these are the eyes i'm taken by

with the next, they'll never show
what breaks his heart or mends his soul;
they'll pamper you with gifts and laughter -
those were the eyes i once chased after

with the latter, they won't take chances -
his desires are whispered through stolen glances;
if pressed, he couldn't tell you what the plan is -
the eyes that showed me what romance is
  May 21 inthewater
Twisted Poet
I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death
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