The words so fearlessly hung
from her lips, yet she refused
to speak them in the darkest
hours of untold truth – instead
struggling to gather strength to
mumble echoes from her heart
that would cause cracks in my
own unsteady foundation. She
was aware of very little beyond
the coming farewell, but she
spoke with a certainty of it in
her heart and it showed on the
delicate lips that I used to be
allowed to kiss with my own
certainty goodnight, yet now
had to casually watch tremble
as she tried repeatedly to say
the words that went beyond a
promise. Those words fearless,
yet the actions were fading in
moments as I turned to kiss her
lips one last time in memory.

At my worst.

At some far off point you began
using my own words of devotion,
my verses of longing and love
against me as your weapon of
choice, twisting the lyrics farther
into my heart, basking in the light
reflections of the blood dripping
down – either this is your choice,
the decision I’ve been waiting so
patiently for, or either you haven’t
the appetite to acknowledge that
you are breaking me, once again.
It’s all happenstance, for I haven’t
any words left to convince you;
you’ve used them all against me.

Truth will set you free.

I was too busy coddling
our future to notice the
present dwindling to ash,
falling away to memories
of stories we swore would
never become truth; I had
a plan, an escape set in
rhythm to condensation
sought after a whiskey
glass. I just wasn’t quick
enough in execution, and
failed in time to rhythms
of swaying heartbeats,
lighting stories filled of
new promises turned into
memories, with a match.

Eight, Three, One…

Others called her by a three
letter name, I only ever knew
her as love personified – as
my muse dancing on the moon
between laughs of whiskey and
unreported jazz, sweet in a
rain of temptation yet sour
in a defeat of whispers and in
an attempt at people pleasing.
Still missing from my arms,
it was hard to let her go –
watching as she danced down
the aisles with two songs in
her heart, but only listening
to the one I couldn’t sing.
I still call out to her, but
she’s no longer listening to
my words, my cries in the night;
even as three in the morning
approaches and I’m lying in
bed with one ear on the phone
because I’m certain she’ll call.
No, I’m lost in the night sky,
trying to come up with some
other name to call her – but
nothing else can replace love.

2, And then we weren’t forever…

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?

Nineteen (In silence)

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.

1, And then we weren’t forever…

It feels too early to be laughing –
a gentle crooning as the sun
is falling asleep, the bugs
singing chorus after chorus,
the songs of early summer.
This was your season, and my
laughter is hindering the
picture that I painted,
dreaming of these days –
you and I on the patio
with a few beers to our names,
counting down the hours
until the stars would appear,
simply because we had nothing
but time, just you and I.

But now we aren’t forever –
the crickets are mocking
in their mating calls,
the neighbors are whispering –
it isn’t fair that they
always loved you more.
Everyone loved you more, and
that was the problem, wasn’t it?

I can’t keep pretending that
I’m doing alright considering,
when I can’t even describe
the blazing heat of the
boulder that’s crashing down
on my chest every time
a spark of interest in a
memory of the two of us comes
screaming in, demanding to be heard.

No, this summer will be long;
with laughter evaporating
before it can even make
waves with the falling rain.