The past does not haunt me

as much as the present

I was and I will be

somewhere in between

enmeshed, never simple  

is time still infinite?

I retire into the arms of a chair
there is nothing that holds me
except for gravity.

I take a book but cannot see to look
at the written word
I am not stirred by sound,
by sight nor touch,

what is left is nothing and
not much I can do about it
but sit and be held
in the arms of a chair and
wait.

Knowing you is a tragedy
Familiarity a stake in the heart
Absence a cup of tea gone cold
To everything clings a sense of “after.”
When I awake it is in this after,
A distant place where I do not know you.
It is peaceful.

oh love
carved out her space
that
we
did not know
but
we
could not erase
oh love
is
just a quiet place
for
two hearts to grow

Tend to me
Like a thirsty garden once forgotten
Sing to me
Like a crying infant, pure and innocent
Hug me
Like an old friend years after
Look at me
Like an abstract painting, more complex with each glance
Touch me
Like the the cold steel strings of your guitar
Love me
Like you did before

I think that if I keep writing,

I will one day write you and I back together.

We'll dance across these fairy tale pages,
Stumbling over the "I missed you's"
And the "I love you's."

It's hard to finish a book with no sequel.
It's hard to resuscitate a life that has died.

But if there's any chance that I can rewind the clock,
To breathe air into us one more time,
To make a second chance,

I'll just keep writing.

like a cat
when he’s in action
running after a bird,
he’ll never catch. The thing

is he can’t fly. But when
he closes his eyes,
he imagines
that he can propel himself

if he stretches his legs out
enough to take a leap
of faith. The neighbor’s think
he’s crazy when they see him

fall flat
on his face. Maybe
he thinks he’s the bird
he’s chasing.