~
Your sweet quiet voice makes my face shift hues.
Almost everything you speak is tasteful.
The ideas of you turn my salty tears into sweet honey, but
honey wouldn't be the right thing to describe my feelings, would it?
Because honey doesn't rot.
It doesn't become bitter.
You are honey.
Sweet and kind and everything I'm not.
I am dark chocolate.
Bitter and jealous and sad.
~

_

moonlight
keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night wind stirs

like mocking breath
of life now lost
to light-less realm
beyond the chill
encircling me

empty
to remain

no emotion
save grief

apples spilled
on broken stair
where rail eluded
grasping hand

no voice came
to futile cry

those lips
will not know again
sweet fruit

nor love

_

rob kistner © 2008

A lot of my favorite memories were made with you
In this old cozy cabin, most of them took place
Before I saw your other side, before I knew
Darkness hiding behind that handsome face.

The first day I walked through the door
Back when you were barely more than my friend
Tense attraction between us we couldn't ignore
We caved in though we were scared of how it might end.

The night we slept together for the first time in your bed
Felt like the thousandth time
We didn't have sex, just basked in the glow from words unsaid
That was the start of a steep and dangerous climb.

All the parties hosted together
We would laugh with our friends and drink
We didn't care if it was Monday or if there was bad weather
Would push it to the very brink.

Owning a puppy, losing him to death
I don't remember ever being held so near
In that car I cried so hard greif captured my breath
You didn't let go until the fall of every last tear.

I met your parents, I was nervous
Knew I would never be the girl of their dreams
Certain their opinions could not stir us
Still relieved to see approving gleams.

Out back, I'd let the dogs run around
Cannot imagine a place I'd call home more than here
I resist the urge to collapse to the ground
Give up, succumb to my deepest pressing fear.

To me this house will always be baunted, yet perfect
Do you come here and think about me?
It is worn furniture and bloodstained ceilings that make me recollect
The bittersweet shadows of your ghostly memory.

The wind carries a faint whisper
Murmured promises beneath the new moon
A soft hand caresses my cheek
As my breath rises in swirling puffs

Fingers leave a trail of warmth
It’s phantom I still feel
The press of lips
Steal my words
A night of which
I’ll never reveal

I remember telling you,
I’m bittersweet.

My delightful laugh,
A saccharine smile, unforgettable.

My painful cry, causing distress.
Leaving a cicatrix in your mind.

n.n