Waning  dappled  moonlight mantles
the margin at the wild-wood edge
Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears
sporadically sway — raking against
the  scarlet  poison  oak  leaves
gently sweeping away the moonlit silence
airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing
barkless mountain willow trunks bare

Subtle nuances constantly animate
twilights rhythm;  heaven flickers
upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars
softly as a candlelight’s  fluttering  glow
evanescing  half way  across  the  sky;
the  sparse  illumined  clouds  stream through
the lambent halo around the rutting moon
fleeting in the blink  of  sleepless eyes

and like the silent touch of a talisman,
transfixed eyes are entranced by all
the  restless  night  disrobes,
captured and cocooned by the seeker’s
awakened senses

An erratic,  familiar feral bark peals haughtily;
a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek
in youthful pursuit;  the howling report back,
ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal,
aroused by the pulse of brother wolf
rippling deeply through their blood

The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top:
an aging full moon is not enough skylight
to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie
the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling
an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within;

bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle
but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically
reach out to touch them in an absolving moment  —
understanding love was always the purpose of being ,...

futilely repining — I  can't  face  myself  alone  again


            harlon rivers ... October  2019                                                  

.

what if we tried again?
what if we started over?
what if we got coffee and introduced ourselves all over again?
would you find me attractive? would you think i was beautiful? would you feel your heart skip beats like you said you did before?
would i be funny? would you laugh at my stories?
would you be nervous? would you shift in your seat and pick at your nails, squirming when we made eye contact?
would i be enough? would you leave thinking you'd want to see me again? or would you say that was nice, and move on?
what if we stayed friends? what if we hung out a lot, studied together, did stupid **** together?
what if it was like it was before without any titles?
would you fall back in love with me?
would you watch me when I laughed, turn back to look at me when I left?
what if while we're friends you find someone new?
what if she hates me?
what if she wants me out of your life?
would you leave?
would i be alone?
what if you fall in love with me and I've moved on? what if we're in a cycle of missed opportunities all because I ****** it up the first time?
these what ifs are killing me and i know maybe they might be killing you too.
I can't tell if you're thinking about me,
you've always remained a bit of a mystery to me.
I'm going to **** my brain thinking about the what if's that I can't control.
what if
what if
what if



what if i still love you and I'm never going to get to hold you again?

her soul is parched
from wandering through deserts
looking for a oasis
she'll never find
Esther L. Krenzin

It's a chaos.
They rumble and jumble inside me.
Something's throwin',
Something's turnin'.

I plead.
It's breaking.
Deep breathing.
Can you please stop?!

Be quiet.
Stay still,
Or hold me atleast.
Please help me gain peace...

I just want serenity,
A cup of calming tea,
Phrases to keep,
And a good night sleep.

You come first
Forever and always
I come second
With feelings it tow

Cruel your glass heart, broke me down

life's fault lines cut, rifts in me

tears flow swift now, I move on

don't want you back, I am free

Can you smell it.
The static in the air.
Clinging to all it can.
As her strength fades too fast.
But then Flying always..
Never lasted long enough.
Sliding past obstructions like they were excuses.
Only stopping to look at the roses when someone else points out their beauty.
Yes, they are just flowers.
Yet they know rejection more than any person.
For they will only get chosen once.
But until then they must watch millions of faces go by in silence.
Then as they are put to their final use.
Some may get placed away for safe keeping.
Placed between rows and columns on either side.
Windows that can be made  into anything.
The Pressure is immense.
One can only hope to retain form with as little decay as possible.
Transforming into the only page without words.
Ask the ink if they know the scent to which they will  lie down for all eternity.
Only there is no answer that would comfort those unwilling to sacrifice.
Give up what matters most.
Because standing here means it was already done.
So what else is there to give.
But pages depicting what could not be found.
The line to insanity and enlightenment has never been such a blur.
Hopefully this trail provides the later.
Although if it is not to be.
Its doubtful you would remember even asking the question.