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"kerns" poems
i. If I could, I would tie promises around each and every one of your fingertips, so that the next time you scale the side of a mountain, and begin to feel your grip slowly melting away from between the cracks of the earth, as gravity nudges you to take the long way down, you would remember that there are hands waiting to catch you if you do take that fall, and realize that the strongest ropes are those with kerns wreathed in the heartstrings of first love, and a mantle webbed in the colors of daybreak and the hopes carried by new tomorrows. ii. If I could, I would write love letters across your arms, so that the next time you feel as if the world is taking so much more than you could give, and your hands have nothing left to hold but pieces crumbled under the weight of pain and frustration, you would see the words carefully pulled out one by one from the splintered chest of a girl who once held you in her arms, and remember that someone’s heart still beats to the syllables of your name, and that the ink never dries out as long as the writer never stops writing. iii. If I could, I would tuck metaphors behind your ears, so that the next time you try to swallow your sorrows, and end up locking yourself away in a lonely silence trapped with the words you want to say and deprived of those you need to hear, you would slowly make out the tides of life crashing against the shore in cadence with the ebb and flow of ‘I’m okay’ and ‘I’m not’, and allow your burning reality to be painted over by the full spectrum of love and loss, give and take — finding beauty even in the fault in our stars. iv. If I could, I would wrap your heart in a blanket woven with raw poetry and tender lullabies, so that the next time you come home late from a long day at work, and collapse on a mattress as cold as the words ‘good’ and ‘night’ gone stale after being left to dry on the empty side of the bed, you would drift into a dream sweeter than laughter and stardust drizzled all over our fondest memories, and wake up to the sunlight spilling meaning back into ‘good’ and ‘morning’, as you start the day taking in all the warmth of being loved and of always being loved.
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Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
megancruz
If I Could
i. If I could, I would tie promises around each and every one of your fingertips, so that the next time you scale the side of a mountain, and begin to feel your grip slowly melting away from between the cracks of the earth, as gravity nudges you to take the long way down, you would remember that there are hands waiting to catch you if you do take that fall, and realize that the strongest ropes are those with kerns wreathed in the heartstrings of first love, and a mantle webbed in the colors of daybreak and the hopes carried by new tomorrows. ii. If I could, I would write love letters across your arms, so that the next time you feel as if the world is taking so much more than you could give, and your hands have nothing left to hold but pieces crumbled under the weight of pain and frustration, you would see the words carefully pulled out one by one from the splintered chest of a girl who once held you in her arms, and remember that someone’s heart still beats to the syllables of your name, and that the ink never dries out as long as the writer never stops writing. iii. If I could, I would tuck metaphors behind your ears, so that the next time you try to swallow your sorrows, and end up locking yourself away in a lonely silence trapped with the words you want to say and deprived of those you need to hear, you would slowly make out the tides of life crashing against the shore in cadence with the ebb and flow of ‘I’m okay’ and ‘I’m not’, and allow your burning reality to be painted over by the full spectrum of love and loss, give and take — finding beauty even in the fault in our stars. iv. If I could, I would wrap your heart in a blanket woven with raw poetry and tender lullabies, so that the next time you come home late from a long day at work, and collapse on a mattress as cold as the words ‘good’ and ‘night’ gone stale after being left to dry on the empty side of the bed, you would drift into a dream sweeter than laughter and stardust drizzled all over our fondest memories, and wake up to the sunlight spilling meaning back into ‘good’ and ‘morning’, as you start the day taking in all the warmth of being loved and of always being loved.
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