Today I unpacked.
I unzipped the memories
And let them ease past
The edges of the suitcase.
I picked them up
Shook them out
Cradled them close
And took a carnal sniff
Of the rough cedar scent
Of heaven
And opportunities lived to the full.
Today I glow
With my secrets
Flickering like tea candles
In a dimly lit jazz bar
Inevitably
He lingers there
In the soft sultry light
There
And not there
The ghost of a person
Swaying to the music
And staring into my soul:
Too spectacular to be real.
He is the road less traveled
Winding and twisting his way through my head
So I can’t find where the stories begin
And he ends
I try to explain
But stories are shooting stars
Staring out bright and trailing off
As I realize I live in the present
While his memories spark and fizzle like pop rocks
Punching my taste buds with a shock of sweet.
He is:
A quest for a perfect seat in the coffee shop
Holding hands in a small theater
Stolen kisses on the sidewalk
Dances without music
A skyline in sunset
And a tearful goodbye
As I got on the train.
I said I was fine.
I lied.
Desperately holding myself together
I dragged my bag
Through a maze of stations
Past the cautious scrutiny of uniforms
And onto the sterility of the plane
Thank God for windows:
Loss is staring out them.
Leaving him behind
Pretending you’re not dying
As your seatmate politely ignores your sobs
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
Today I unpacked.
I unzipped the memories
And let them ease past
The edges of the suitcase.
I picked them up
Shook them out
Cradled them close
And took a carnal sniff
Of the rough cedar scent
Of heaven
And opportunities lived to the full.
Today I glow
With my secrets
Flickering like tea candles
In a dimly lit jazz bar
Inevitably
He lingers there
In the soft sultry light
There
And not there
The ghost of a person
Swaying to the music
And staring into my soul:
Too spectacular to be real.
He is the road less traveled
Winding and twisting his way through my head
So I can’t find where the stories begin
And he ends
I try to explain
But stories are shooting stars
Staring out bright and trailing off
As I realize I live in the present
While his memories spark and fizzle like pop rocks
Punching my taste buds with a shock of sweet.
He is:
A quest for a perfect seat in the coffee shop
Holding hands in a small theater
Stolen kisses on the sidewalk
Dances without music
A skyline in sunset
And a tearful goodbye
As I got on the train.
I said I was fine.
I lied.
Desperately holding myself together
I dragged my bag
Through a maze of stations
Past the cautious scrutiny of uniforms
And onto the sterility of the plane
Thank God for windows:
Loss is staring out them.
Leaving him behind
Pretending you’re not dying
As your seatmate politely ignores your sobs