The silence has
retreated, creeping
past thunderstorms
and rolling tides,
breaking wind
storms and sonnets,
collapsing into the
hazed waves of
destruction and blue;
beyond the riffs
of water curling
against two words
with a lone promise,
the sun is rising
again, drying out
the absence, and
singing tales of
honey kissed rays.
As the heat began to drop,
the sun looming over the
tops of the treeline,
I was hit with that
unnerving realization
that while I wasn’t
eager, nor exactly
willing – it was time
to let go, and breathe.
Watch the sun fade,
christening the stars
as I focused on the
colors and shades
no longer the whys,
just one last time –
I was ready. It wasn’t
home but I’m sure
that I’ll be missed.
On the bare walls
of our old apartment,
memories are playing
like reels on repeat,
showcasing dances of
first every things
overlapping with what
would become our lasts;
cries are no longer
the sound of the room,
instead replaced with
our song, that I can’t
bring myself to listen
to, playing on mute –
pleading with me to
simply ask of you,
if you even struggle
half as much as I do?
I had tried to break the silence –
shattering all mirrors of yesterday,
while singing viciously over the future.
Too lost in stale vodka and sonnets,
that I once sung but now carry her
voice, I presume for you to notice.
I dare say, she sings much grander
than I – but I wonder what she’s saying
in the silence that makes your heart come
alive, like it did with me? Or doesn’t she
tease and evoke; make you quiver in that way?
Only silence, I presume – what a pity.
What can crush an illusion,
such as hope, but two words
with a lone realization?
It’s a false pretense
baiting the walls with
memories shadowed in deceit;
gone are the visions of a
tomorrow filled with laughter
replaced instead with baited
breath – rapid succession beats
tearing apart the soul from the
core inside, trapping the victor
in a whirlwind of what will
never be, and what never
shall even be dreamed.
It’s admitting failure in
the eyes of wanting to change
what can’t be tamed, what has
not even occurred, with what
we could only paint in fantasies.
An illusion such as hope is
our own downfall – a harboring
destruction in our quake of
reality. It is eminent yet
no longer promising; rising
in our ashes only to spread
its wings and recant our spirits.
So why do we hold on for so long?
I couldn’t describe your absence
between the vowels in silence –
a sharpened dusting of gray
rooted in the crevices of the
carpet to the popcorned ceiling,
screaming out memories of images
faded and burned at the corners,
dancing down the halls at a
quarter past two, most nights –
breaking vases and picture frames,
leaving shards of glass on the
floor to shine and gleam from
the light of tomorrow that
seems to never want to return.
But just as I’m befriending the
darkness, the sun rises again
taunting me with wordless sing
alongs about times months before,
begging and baiting me to join –
illuminating the apartment with
paintings on the walls of what
could have been, and what will
no longer be – and I scream.
The silence may be broken, but
your absence is still teasing me
between the vowels of moving on.
at last I speak to question
the fateful path of life’s lies.
and burden our humble hearts
with caffeinated meager highs.
aware I stand loyally
with death ridden butterflies,
I plead with my late night drink
to grind out the pleading cries.
too late the doors are closing,
and I but a passerby
am quite aware I live on
the side not meant for I,
and so I drink in as much
and leave my words for the wise,
take with each an ounce of love
to soften too soon goodbyes.
In an ice induced blaze,
I am struggling to keep
my head from drowning –
my feet are dangling,
grasping for any ground
to grab hold of;
my arms are stone cold,
too stubborn to grasp.
I was never the warrior,
too timid to fight back;
but yet I’m supposed to
keep fighting for you?
Give me a blade, a sword,
a word, or an anecdote –
I have nothing left beyond
a sigh of defeat
in a barren cause.
The cold too much,
the flames too high,
my battle never finished.
I have lost – a great burden
on the hopeful and enduring.
Now let me rest,
or leave me to drown.
Storylines in Verse 