written August 21, 2010
chocolate that falls like stars on a cloudy night are your fingertips against my skin...
and i wait, and waiting, i lose you again.
so, I, like rain clouds that can only experience thunder after crashing, fall apart again.
but the roaring in my ears that screams at me, it will subside, like your love of me...
Saturday, March 5, 2011
A Taste Upon the Tongue
written August 8, 2010
This parade of letters
These words, one after the other,
Flow from mind to pen
And linger like the memory
Of blackberry wine--
A taste upon the tongue
That's what you are,
A taste upon my tongue.
One that is more fiction than fact,
In the way of memories.
I loved you in a way
That I'm afraid to repeat
Because I'm not who I was
And my capacity for love--
It has only grown.
We've grown apart
A willful determination on my part.
Neglect on yours.
And now--I'm reminded of you
In another face, another voice.
And it makes me wary.
Makes me yearn.
Love yearns in me,
Yawning in its wakeful sleep,
But I'm afraid to lick my lips
And discover that same taste upon my tongue.
This parade of letters
These words, one after the other,
Flow from mind to pen
And linger like the memory
Of blackberry wine--
A taste upon the tongue
That's what you are,
A taste upon my tongue.
One that is more fiction than fact,
In the way of memories.
I loved you in a way
That I'm afraid to repeat
Because I'm not who I was
And my capacity for love--
It has only grown.
We've grown apart
A willful determination on my part.
Neglect on yours.
And now--I'm reminded of you
In another face, another voice.
And it makes me wary.
Makes me yearn.
Love yearns in me,
Yawning in its wakeful sleep,
But I'm afraid to lick my lips
And discover that same taste upon my tongue.
Wishing for the Moon
Wishing for you to see me
Is like wishing for the moon.
Futile. Pointless.
Leaves me with surround-sound shadows
And these endless taunts for myself.
(I always know what buttons to push).
This wishing is a defeat,
As it passes from thought to tongue
Until it's as though
My world has grown too small.
Insecurity.
It's something I learned young.
I have fostered it behind closeted doors,
and in return it has taught me caution.
And I think, now that I'm older,
That I want nothing to do
With any of it.
What do I have left?
A wish.
Is like wishing for the moon.
Futile. Pointless.
Leaves me with surround-sound shadows
And these endless taunts for myself.
(I always know what buttons to push).
This wishing is a defeat,
As it passes from thought to tongue
Until it's as though
My world has grown too small.
Insecurity.
It's something I learned young.
I have fostered it behind closeted doors,
and in return it has taught me caution.
And I think, now that I'm older,
That I want nothing to do
With any of it.
What do I have left?
A wish.
Love: Return to Sender
Love is a grown-up disease
It gets into my system
And I can't fight it off,
Though I try.
Love is a sickness
Eats at my stomach lining
And kicks sanity around in my brain.
I burn from the inside,
I burn for you.
I send you pieces of myself
But they're returned to sender
Or never acknowledged at all.
There must be too much
In this package deal
And the sepia-toned mistakes,
The grief that tastes like defeat,
It all becomes a bitterness
Buried in my heart.
It gets into my system
And I can't fight it off,
Though I try.
Love is a sickness
Eats at my stomach lining
And kicks sanity around in my brain.
I burn from the inside,
I burn for you.
I send you pieces of myself
But they're returned to sender
Or never acknowledged at all.
There must be too much
In this package deal
And the sepia-toned mistakes,
The grief that tastes like defeat,
It all becomes a bitterness
Buried in my heart.
Free
written July 28, 2010
There's so much I want to say, but don't.
Too much emotion hanging by a phrase.
The silence is all you hear,
But I have all these voices in my head.
Voices that keep me from being me.
They hinder and protect,
Until I feel fragmented instead of free.
There's so much I want to say, but don't.
Too much emotion hanging by a phrase.
The silence is all you hear,
But I have all these voices in my head.
Voices that keep me from being me.
They hinder and protect,
Until I feel fragmented instead of free.
Fireflies
Written July 16, 2010
A handful of fireflies
Light up the blood in my hands--
A red glow under my skin
A few more fly around my head as though
Anxiously pacing
Waiting for the birthing to be done
But it's never done.
As the lights in my hand fly out
The red pulse of life under
My skin fades away...
If you can't see it, is it still there?
Fireflies dance in my daydreams until
I feel I've made no progress where you're concerned
Birthing hurts.
A handful of fireflies
Light up the blood in my hands--
A red glow under my skin
A few more fly around my head as though
Anxiously pacing
Waiting for the birthing to be done
But it's never done.
As the lights in my hand fly out
The red pulse of life under
My skin fades away...
If you can't see it, is it still there?
Fireflies dance in my daydreams until
I feel I've made no progress where you're concerned
Birthing hurts.
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