And something's changed,
but we're still the same,
you and me,
our hands fit just so
and I can feel your heart race
against my tired body.
It's been a few days now,
but I still feel your warmth
and taste your tears on my lips
from our evening in the car,
when for once,
I was holding you.
That night, the tables turned,
hell, the tables never cease;
but we're just the same,
we're still the same,
and our hands still lock together.
I loved you yesterday.
I love you today.
I will love you tomorrow.
I confronted the space between us;
I looked her right in the eyes.
Perplexed, I questioned her existence,
but she gave me a sly smile.
"If it's answers that you're after,
my dear, don't waste your breath.
Only time will sort and simmer
the mess inside your head."
She turned and scurried off
before I could object;
But love, she got me thinking,
about the heart that I protect.
The walls built high around my heart,
the soldiers and their swords.
From whom am I so guarded?
Who do I fear the most?
My love who holds the power alone,
holds me close tonight.
This time, her apology came in the form
of a caramel macchiatto
on a Tuesday morning.
just scalding coffee and gritted teeth
received by timid fingers
and pursed lips.
And it was enough for me,
until I realized that
all the sugar packets in the state
couldn't sweeten her words
or soothe my burnt tongue.
Bring on the melodramatic poetry. :3
I think to myself
as my shaking hand takes to the page,
Will be about the day my father left,
my first day of college,
or even the way my hands shake when I write.*
I write six words,
scratch out seven more,
and continue until I notice
i'm left with
a sloppy "i
even when my poems aren't about you, they're about you.
I remember sitting cross-legged
in the backyard with you,
stringing dandelions together
and lazily strumming my guitar
while you rested your head
on my thigh last summer.
I sang soft melodies
and you dreamt that time stopped
and we left this town together. . .*
You're too practical,
and I'm too scared,
so here we go again.
You and I are the movie’s trailer,
the first lick of a dripping ice cream cone,
the first snow in winter.
We’re a beginning,
a preview of what could happen,
what would happen if our lives ever align.
But for now, I’m satisfied with
serendipitous blurs of visits,
occasional tastes of our favorite tea,
and the hope that I’ll enjoy
a fresh *** of Earl Grey
with you down this winding road.
Contemplating doing this one (and others) as spoken word.
More than anything else, I have to find me first;
but I don’t want to forget you.
"Don’t worry, I’ll tell you until there are no more words to say.”
You just shook your head.
I tried to explain when I woke up this morning
just beneath the surface,
but I’d lost my ability to speak.
I dreamt of my very being
keeping the city safe
up until the day it rained.
I finally understood that Love herself
is a “four letter word”.
Well my darling,
I’ll have to forget me to know where I’ve gone.
Open your eyes.
But now you’re gone, just a few days later,
to keep us both alive.
I held out the matches with no real reason why.
Just like that, I watch your head spin.
My fingers tingle, and I can breathe.
“How do you like it?”
It's falling together..
I’d seen it since the beginning.
Even so, I miss the days when things were simple.
September* came and went with no evidence or new scars.
Nature can’t make up her mind about me either.
I still have the pictures to prove it.
The music is pure, but I barely notice.
Getting hopelessly lost
until I can barely distinguish my own penmanship.”
I put this piece together by taking lines from all the poems I wrote in 2013. :)