I could still see the reflection
of my lips whispering words
of love in the light of your eyes,
with every shiver against my
touch trailing down your arm
to find where two hearts were
beating out loud promises of
a new ending, an echo of what
was always and would always
be, even if ignored – it was the
reflection of my words in your
eyes as you turned to leave; I
wouldn’t have heard you whisper
if I hadn’t been saying the same.
between whispers and sonnets
we could cover the landscape of
the moon, carving out milestones
in memories and gentle lullabies
swaying in-between constellations,
fragments of stars and promises.
together we can illuminate the sky
past dusk, with hope just on the
horizon and a laughter of colorful
verse to lighten the darkness; with
each other hand in hand, we can
create the crevices of the moon to
hold our secrets, until we can find
the words to wish onto the world.
With two heartbeats past
three in the morning, when
even the crickets are trying to
rest and the trees are refusing
to budge in the light whistling
breeze of the moon and stars,
when the cold floorboards are
creaking beneath my footsteps,
with the gentle soothing sounds
of whispers at my touch – I am
alone with the choices you had
made, without a second notice
to the sound of my heartbeat,
shifting amongst the silence in
a city that only seems to sleep
when thoughts become burdens.
We were alternating
writing chapters of our
story; yours were always
longer, while I was rushing
to get to the finish, trying to
figure out how it all ends, and
you were right – I was missing
all of the little things, details on
the page, not stopping to take a
breath with every little change
in verse. You said it was time
for us to rewrite our chapters
separately, and then you left.
I hadn’t any idea on how to
start, except to take a deep
breath, and to try detailing
out every memory that I
was missing out on in
your absence – filling
pages with chapters
of what I hoped
would turn into
a new middle,
not a fantasy
about our
ending.
It was a wave of uncertainty
flooding my thoughts and my
desires past the blue ink stains
littering the page in repetition
to a beat I’d only heard when I
laid my head against your chest;
it was only an idea, catapulted
into reasoning as I placed every
effort into twisting and bending
the contours of the words, losing
their voice as I transformed them
into lyrics of a song, sung only by
the two of us, as it forgot the only
question that it had belonged to.
Storylines in Verse 