Ours was like fireworks
in the summer sky
but the finale came suddenly,
and the band played on,
as if nothing had changed,
as if a fountain of sparkling embers and flame
had not just erupted mere inches away.
where explosions once seared summer's sky with crackling thunderous incandescent delight
Only whispers and wisps of smoke remain,
Scattered by the breeze,
Whithered, then, by rain.
And of the evening's reveries precious little can be found:
some soured beer in crumpled cans, discarded haphazardly
surrounding a threadbare picnic bedspread
rumpled beneath the branches of an ancient live oak tree.
Dew now wet where lovers once had lain,
staring up into the night
in wonder, ignorant of such banal things
like: masquerading lust in love's robes, declaring,
"I've never loved a love as deep as the love I have for you,"
and truly being unaware of the uncanny substitute;
Or the unbridled disenchantment unleashed by abandonment
and the inevitable transience of an insufferable pain.
We ****** on bar balcony balustrades, over looking city streets.
We ditched tampons into trees rather than wait to satisfy our needs.
We left your ******* in a planter on patio under an eve
So that some poor, unassuming shop-keeper
Would find them
(along with cigarette butts and an empty bag of ****)
and have no choice but think to themselves,
"Did someone **** here?"
and then immediately understand the answer is
We defiled. every. place. we went;
giggling with glee at all of our indiscretions.
"Oh how many indiscretions could there possibly be?
We shall know;
All of them!"
And so we did, and we were free.
On new years eve I carried you piggyback in your peacock blue sequined gown through the streets of our ****-soaked-gutter-of-a-town.
You were barefoot, drunk, and refusing to be told what to do,
that you had to wear your shoes,
that the streets were far to ***** and dangerous for your tender little feet- you said "Just let me be, It's fine. It wont **** me..."
then, looking at the gutter, continued,
And these shoes already are, so..." sticking out your tongue
But I couldn't put you down.
Not in that place, not at that time.
Nor did I even want to. I could have carried you all night
(which was fortunate, because for most of itI did.)
We were declared the city's cutest couple by a stranger on the sidewalk whom we passed while galloping down the street, you, giggling, alight upon my back, running at full speed. This declaration was reaffirmed by everyone met.
A pixie, you know, will always trip you up
(they're natural pranksters you see).
Their magic is undeniable, but oh what trouble they can be.
- My toothsome little faerie - You meant trouble for me;
but what a beautiful, beguiling mess you turned out to be,
You snuck pixie dust into everywhere we went, and
Dispensed it with abandon-
Spread it like caution to the wind.
Sanctifying everything and everyone we met.
That poor city was baptized in our joy.
It's sins washed into glittering gutters,
where we lay sparkling, genuine and loved
We broke the records that night,
all of them, known and not.
We loved harder than diamond,
than a trailer-hitch to the shin,
Deeper than the fathoms of the trenches at the bottom of the sea.
We made soulmates seem like strangers.
We spoke nonsense fluently.
We shared mind and body, food and drink,
and careless wanton play.
I've ever had in my life,
Probably the most that I ever will.
Every moment I was with you was
the sizzle and the tease
of a bottle-rocket lit
and held between my teeth.
I knew I'd get burned
If I held it to the end,
But I did it,
Just to prove I could;
That I was brave enough
First draft catharsis.
Second draft refined.
Third draft- shape and tone, structure and rhyme.
I've been holding on to some very dense emotional pain relating to a relationship which, for lack of a better word, collapsed. When it did, I was buried by my depression, and sank into drug and alcohol addiction. The depression and drugs had taken there toll on the relationship, but I couldn't not understand why someone who had loved and been loved so deeply could just walk away. It took a long time to understand that it was self-preservation. And that is a hard realisation to make. Still the love we shared was enigmatic. Like nothing I've ever seen in a movie or a song or a poem. This is hardly a testament, or even a rough approximation of the experience at its finest moments, but it is a reflection. A memory. She took a piece of me when she left. One I want back desperately, but also one I know cannot be found. So I'll have to search until I find something of a similar size and shape, maybe a little larger, and cut the whole to fit.