Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2011
I watched you make one of the coldest moves in front of our reflection. You plunged through billowing smoke into areas that lacked any expression at all. I saw you shift away into various shades of pictures then run shrieking using all that you had seen as an excuse.  While all the while, I was arranging to tour the fields of you.

I saw headlines printed in places so that they became more than just this morning’s declarations. I really liked how you always understood all the tiny little windows you said they held because this is how you knew everything that was happening.  Yes, you knew it all.

There were hundreds of experiences I could hear asking me why you were making the coldest moves.  Yet, you acted as if you never heard them. Still, I saw the look in your eyes the minute they approached. Somehow, I could tell you knew that what you saw smiled and looked forward to not hearing what we both needed to say.

All I could do was shake my head and begin to face more puzzling hours filled with only you and your insistence that I adjust the temperature of the air you had frozen.  I wondered how anyone could stand and look at you and not be startled by who you are.

Blurs of agitation too strange for even me to identify looked over my shoulder with excitement.  They were not there to inhale my perfume only to seek out my scars. The scars that visit my heart from time to time to remind me they can still hold my arms back from reaching out to you.

Even though you laid right next to me we could no longer find each other in the billowing smoke that issued from our breath.  Ice had begun to form between our hearts within the coldest moves.  There we lay in the darkness both of us looking for the best place to hide.

Take my word for it, as this was not an illusion.  I swear I saw cold clouds hanging over the bed laughing at you and me. Because we didn’t have the faintest idea that the darkness wasn’t real or how close we lay to what could make us warm again.
Neva Flores @03/31/2011
Neva Flores Varga Smith
Written by
Neva Flores Varga Smith  53/F/Rochester NY
(53/F/Rochester NY)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems