I’m gonna climb a tree, break off every branch on the way. Guarantee myself this time I’ll be free. The garden was dead, except that last rose, I pulled the thorns off and lay them on the sidewalk so you could see the path, find me stranded. Our escape from the past. Your bare feet, so gingerly, avoiding the thorns pricks along the way. Save the sky, the view is perfect. From this treetop I can see all I need. I need you and the clouds. I need the moon when the sun goes down. I need safety from all the onlookers who’ll never understand.
We’re all in passing cars like Venus to Mars.
At least that’s what they told me when I was a kid.
I stumbled upon her, she washed my feet,
from the basin with the dirt submerged underneath,
the filth of four decades and no release.
Water from downpours, now silent in relief.
Three words in union, a sentiment with attached strings,
held lofty with dowel rods, pivoting angel wings. We’re just strangers now.
When the last hug has been passed around.
Strangers in the crowd.
The inevitable spring. I saw It today.
Knew it would come. We could sneak away.
A moment. It will come again.
Until the new wave strikes,
bitter quarreling lovers in a knife fight.
Part of me saw light, the greatest weapon is love,
polished the stars bright. Each one brighter than the last.
The peace of the world which gently persists.
Sprouting forth undeniably into cherished moments,
a small victory, another day won.
Seated on the edge of oblivion.
The rain drizzled gently from an open sky, and I smiled as she drove away. Life, a series of moments.
I can be a transient lover to you.
Stability, security, override what you feel.
Eventually my act gets tired.
Songs embellished in your name,
I don’t know what’s real. Forgiveness is.
I owe myself a few more mulligans.
Nothing rhymes with mulligan.
I don’t blame you for wanting out.
Happiness is a dollar sign, no time
for silly thoughts, these words of mine. McCartney was right all along.
No amount of prose can replace structure,
fidelity, coarse in the hourglass.
Rubbing you, those last sloppy moments in bed.
Sand stuck in your bathing suit.
“Fuck me” still hanging in the air over my head. It felt so dirty to be with you.
Transient love spent.
My well-meaning “goodbye” sent.
Seems we’re bred to believe,
love is all we need. They lied to me.
Pillaging the lovelorn,
stretched at the seams.
What love means to me.
This is a lonely space,
but it doesn’t have to be.
Fiction, poems and pleasantries. Love is all we need.
I miss you like the rain
when all the clouds have went astray.
I miss you as if this empty heart,
never went too far
or fell apart.
I miss you when the stars went dead, never fell,
with no more secrets to tell.
I miss the way you smell, the still crackle of time
the ripples in the well.
I miss counting the days you were here, as if they had no end in sight,
and they’re all gone.
I miss the wide eyes, across the room,
the knowing warmth, dancing below the moon.
I miss you like tomorrow will never come.
Feelings unearthed, give rise to new ones.