missing you

missing you more than I thought I would
more than I should
taking time to wallow
is certainly dangerous

it’s not the obvious
the signs of life
the warmth of the pillow
the breath on my neck
the fingers grasping mine
no, it’s none of those
it’s the sweet quiet
after
it’s the look across the crowded room
speaking better than any words
it’s cleaning up after a meal
and making another mess
yes, it’s the signs of you
lurking in the corners

missing you and our time more than I knew I could
more than I should
holding you as sacred
in memory is certainly a danger

October 19, 2013 0

Softer

Sometimes we expose our softness
reveling in sensations
joyful, light, full of promise
and we get beaten to shit
hammered and cut and ruined
So we create a shell like an animal
doing everything to hold something
tender inside
while bruised like unwanted fruit
we become hard to all outside
letting peripheral hurts be deflected
If we’re lucky, something soft remains
letting in light and love
laughing in the face of anguish
pissing in the stream of tears
We write hard and talk hard
and maybe even live hard
but inside
we retain the softness
the precious that we entered with
we may take with us always

October 19, 2013 0

whiling away the time

Where have the days gone
slipping by so quietly
a cacophony of sights
a barrage of textures
my wits have been stretched thin
I’m so taut
I may erupt forth
like an arrow on fire
It seems as though we laughed
yesterday
but it’s been eons
since anything real has seen light
if you touch me I may burst
just the thought of your smile
and your deep eyes
all sinking into me
like the sun’s rays
melting me
I’m ready to fit a new mold
one freshly hewn by your hands
my old shell has cracked
I may not ever be whole again
but I will be enough
to hold
any any parts of me that escape
were not meant to be kept
whiling away the time
we’ll explore anew
our favorite places
and taste of old times again

October 18, 2013 0

we bend

time seems to bend

like a Dali clock

sort of warped and messy

when I’m with you

or talk to you

or think of you

I feel like myself

during our time

sort of warped and messy

with no constraint

or restraint

or construct to hinder us

October 16, 2013 0

What I Can Do

I’m not a seamstress
can’t weave or sew like my grandmother
I’m not an artist
can’t paint or draw like my other grandmother
I’m not an athlete
can’t play ball like my uncle
I’m not a chef
can’t cook gourmet food like my other uncle
I’m not a gardener
can’t make things grow like my aunt
I’m not beautiful
can’t model like my other aunt
I’m not a doctor
can’t patch people up like my parents

But here’s what I can do

I can hold you
I can write the right words
I can love you