I have no verse today.
God’s in heaven, angels watch
What more can  I say

I wonder
if I am (still)

the distant roar
that travels shyly
past your ears

while you sleep.

Wrinkles run up your warm hands,
Telling tales of love and long times past.
Beautiful hands, carved from ancient oak.
That I can’t help but watch
When they dance through the air,
To the soothing tones of your Boston lilt,
Or as they grip a paintbrush,
Laden with color,
Ready to explode over the crisp page.

I can see them splotched with ink,
Stained from the time you said
That I could paint you.
I can see your hands coming together,
A smile breaking across your face.

I can hear your laugh,
Bubbling from within,
Booming across the room,
Loud and deep,
Infectious and hearty.

Your stories always have a place in me,
Memories and love etching words in my heart;
They fuel my heart’s steady beat,
Sending a smile and joy and memories of you
Infused in my blood.

I so desperately
wanted your love
that I thought it was what
I needed to be happy
turns out
you were only
in the way

-em vidar

Today I realized I’m responsible
for the destructive crash
that brought me to where I am.
There were quite a few red lights,
but I ignored them completely.
After all, it’s the green lights
that always look so beautiful
when you are out at night.