They                                                             ­                     They
   say  that  the  eyes                                  say  that  the  eyes
    are                the soul                         are                the soul
        windows to                                          windows to

i.

they say that when you drown,
it's nothing like in the movies;
it's silent.
there's no splashing,
no screaming,
no kicking or crying for help.

just
silence.

and i guess it's true,
for i am drowning --
there is water in my lungs,
pouring into my heart,
filling my veins and escaping from my eyes --
yet i cannot speak.

i am rendered speechless
by you.

ii.

i'm not so sure if it's
the smooth white sand
ingrained in your skin,

or the intricate seashells
that are your daintily painted
fingernails.

maybe it's the pulsing red
of a moon during high tide
that shines through
your scarlet lips,

or maybe
it's the crashing waves
filling the ocean in your eyes.

maybe it's the way you sweep me up
and pull me under,
stealing my breath,
invading my thoughts.

or maybe it's how you
are unpredictable.
you are in alliance with the erratic skies
and fickle moon,
and yet,
no one can control you,
no one can predict your next move.

iii.

i find it fascinatingly beautiful
how easy it is
for you to destroy yourself,
how you hide within raging whirlpools
and tear yourself apart from the inside.

people are afraid of the ocean,
but the ocean is a part of you.
who knows, though?
maybe you're scared of the ocean too.

iv.*

beware the girl with the ocean eyes,
for a heart that is eaten away by the sea
can never be whole again.*

(a.m.)

We have our dreams,
My perfect stranger,
Though we never really met,
Perhaps; never shall meet.
Still, we amble along together,
Navigating the lamentable brook,
Unfulfilled promises, foaming,
Swirling around our bare feet,
The cold of reality numbing our toes,
Skipping over rocks of broken ideals,
Once cherished, but not here, no,
They are fractious and discarded.
Trickles of tormented sighs, tease,
While avoiding guiding ropes of life,
Which would snag our thoughts,
Straining against friction burns,
As they attempt to bind us tightly,
Holding us prisoner, when in truth,
We are capable of incarcerating ourselves.
Although, our minds are free, yes,
Living beneath the same impassive moon,
Bathing within its stolen light,
Stealing our own, moments of peace,
As in sleep, we slip away unnoticed,
To hold each other, so loving,
Above the clouds, sharing caresses,
Smooching around, and round,
Oblivious of telltale tears on our cheeks.
A shooting star arcs across the sky,
‘Shall we wish?’ You ask,
‘Nah,’ I reply; wishing is for fools,
Be content; acceptance is the key,
My perfect stranger,
We have our dreams.

© Paul M Chafer 2014

a bed so big
a room so empty
a void that you left
is slowly killing of me

hugging a pillow during my sleep pretending it was you, was the loneliest thing that i’ve ever done; constantly wishing how nice it is if it were your hands that i was holding

but no,

my fist clenched the bedsheets in the most distressing way possible; to think that i got used to waking up facing the cold wall pretending it was you made me contemplate nonstop:

what if someday i got accustomed to the coldness and the silence so well, that i couldn’t take the heat and the hitch between each of your breath?

If love is in the air,
I must not be breathing,
If love is in the eye of the beholder,
No one is looking at me,
If all is fair in love and war,
I have no battle to lose,
If there's a brighter tomorrow with everyday,
I am stuck in the past,
If the spark is gone,
I've never been there,
If it's love,
I'm not in it.

When I look at you
You send shivers
No – sparks.

The air is charged with them
Dense.

I can feel just how much of it
is between us –
(always too much)

And I want more than anything
To cross it –
Wade through the ions
to you.

To only stop when my lips
Meet yours
(the only way I have found
to get rid of the air)
and you take my breath away.

You.
A word once filled with love
Now turned sour
This tapestry
Once a work of art-
Painted with streaks of fury,
Blots of distaste,
A perfect image once presented
Now soiled with hatred
You.
Slid in to my life
Unannounced
Unexpected
Absolutely not unwanted
How could I be so foolish to think
Love?
The smile you had
Safe, warm, welcoming
How was I to know?
You.
Mirrors and smoke screens to hide
What you really were.
I didn't LOVE you
You were merely a stepping stone
A portion of my own painting,
Now blackened and smeared
I didn't love you.
I couldn't love you.
Your tapestry rolled,
But not forgotten.
For how could I forget
This hole that is
You.