Without the delicate light
of the moon to guide me
into my days, I am left in
uncertainty, craving the
subtle reflection of stars,
that are like kisses left in
sonnets and in rhythms of
blues; left to fear the sun
like a second burden to my
day, knowing the hours to
be a reminder of how the
moon vanished past the
horizon, refusing to rise,
and I am left in darkness.
She is the softest of songs
set to jazz, where even the
wisps of her silence send
my heart crooning, and I
can only succumb to the
melodies of her eyelashes
fluttering past the tunes in
transition – she is my muse,
decorating my dreams set
to tunes of a trumpet and
her sax, in the company of
love, despite her absence.
She has left, to places just
outside of my reach, but
wherever she travels, she
takes all of me with her.
Pull me tighter into your embrace –
I feel the warmth of your arms slowly
receding like the waves who gently
kiss the beach goodnight. I crave the
light brush of your fingertips burning
future memories into my chilled skin.
Wrap me inside your words echoing
off your steady heartbeat of promises,
dreams, and everything in-between.
Allow me to nestle my head in the
curve of your neck, knowing your
scent to be of home, where my light
breaths tickle and you lovingly sigh.
Pull me tighter, and never let me go.
should I wait for you
in the days when the
birds first learn to sing,
where the wildflowers
are sprouting up in the
rhythms of jazz; or on
the eve of the first snow,
where the winds whistle
tunes echoing the moon?
shall I continue to wait
until the very last of my
breaths are whispering
your name, hollowed in
promises and patience,
left to break with the
falling of my final sun?
even then, will you still
remember me – left to
wait in longing for an
end, we’ll never have?
you always craved fire,
watching the sway of the
flames dancing to a beat
only heard by the call of
night, swiftly kissing the
embers – I just failed to
realize that I was your
match, waiting to burn.
and as my flames go up
lighting the northern sky
I can only quiver to ask,
will you love me, still?
With the last of my wishes
burning by the stars, in tones
of washed up hues left by the
falling sun, I took a chance at
whispering your name – letting
it nestle on my lips as I tried to
hold it in my embrace one last
time, watching memories float
like lost lanterns to the skyline;
counting my final wishes rising
with the stars yet falling like ash
in time of the burning sun, as I
wait under the darkened hues of
night for my name to echo back.
Carried in the breezes past
midnight, is the light giggle
surrounding your smile as
your eyelashes are starting
to flutter in time to the rapid
successions of your heart –
rising like the moon in soft
patterns played out in blues,
with the backdrop of stars
laid out past the heavens,
you still outshine them all;
carrying your laugh into a
dance of tomorrow, built
for us, to last a lifetime.
I spent the evening
counting the pathway
through the stars to get
back into your arms –
veering left at the Leo
as the light blush of
the breeze helps carry
me past long forgotten
constellations and lone
memories, believing in
possibilities reflected
off the gaze of the last
stars, knowing my path
to be long and darkened
by the night sky, I will
still find my way home.
The sun is rising –
a glow of promise
kissing the horizon,
looming over fallen
days of summer as
autumn has already
set in; a change in
direction, setting in
time with the rising
of possibilities and
chances embraced
in the warmth of a
kiss left by the sun,
burning the trees in
wishes and desire,
casting behind only
memories to fall in
time with the leaves,
with the backdrop
of a new sun rising.
with the words that used to flow
so fervently from my feeble mind,
lost in a realm of reason between
my thoughts and a blue inked pen,
are the whispers I couldn’t quite
grasp in order to speak out loud,
as though they were victims unto
themselves or casualties of my
own making, as I tried valiantly to
shake them out and make us both
bleed – twice for honesty, once for
a lie only I was caught believing.
down went the words onto paper
I had dreamt of and then ended
up recanting, as though no word
was good enough to share with
you my secrets and desires, and
so instead I sat staring at a blank
page, forgetting that this too was
part of my truth, I hadn’t yet shared.
Storylines in Verse 