You had one question,
wrapped around the idea
of one little verse, a slight
symphony of the heart, in
which you and I had once
been dancers, gracefully
swaying to the tempos of
love – you had asked, and
I said yes, with the rapid
beating of our hearts as we
took our final bow as mere
lovers, moving on into the
world as fiancés; forever
dancers, in this life of love.
Nebraska, hold me close
like all those summers ago,
when the warmth of the sun’s
rays bled through the open
windows, casting light onto
our hearts as we lay tangled
in bed after many days apart.
Hold me close like the early
days, when love was always
on our minds as we sprawled
out on blankets counting the
spaces between the stars and
filling them with our dreams.
Nebraska, embrace my heart,
like all those summers ago,
as waking up next to you was
the most beautiful sight I had
seen, when you became love,
basking in the summer heat.
Hold me Nebraska; hold my
heart and kiss my dreams.
As the stars shoot past
lone survivors making
wishes beyond longing
for a dream, I recall the
gentleness of the lonely,
when solitude was more
than just a single number,
curled up in satisfaction
of something more, with
possibilities of the infinite
bound inside the realities
of one plus one equaling
more than just you and me,
where all the mathematics
blended into nothingness
until the stars shooting past
carried more than just wishes
of a change in the numbers.
There was not an escape,
nor any sort of turning back;
we were alone in the crooked
shells of the world, holding on
with tethered hands and tired
souls, breaking insights as we
hunted for survival – there was
only a you and I, harboring our
love on mile markers and poor
gas station coffee, no ideas on
a direction, no actual plans for
an escape, just going and going
until we could pretend we were
gone, lost inside the disheveled
aftermath of a broken journey.
Hidden behind the shadows
where the night and sun meet,
past the lightly traced outline
of the horizon, where the eyes
play tricks of love and deceit,
are the fallen dreams we had
laid to rest, nestled inside the
buried limits we could not see;
where once dreams had been
kissed twice by daylight on the
horizon, growing in vibrancy,
are now forgotten by the fall of
dusk, left in withered remains,
bounded, begging to be set free.
With a shallowed breath,
I whispered all my truths
into the night, where the
stars gleamed in a delicate
anticipation, holding onto
my fears and dreams as I
took to the moon, hoping
for guidance with a loving
embrace, searching for an
outcome beyond tattered
remains of a hallowed self;
I was within and without,
tethered to the night by the
ropes of honesty, bound to
the idea of an embrace in
which I could never receive.
I saw December in your eyes,
frost at the edges with a warmth
fulfilling promises of a firelight
romance building at your core –
with dreams and memories of us
creating visions of a wonderland
of truth and love, you asked me
to be yours with a hopeful desire
I already was; and I always was.
With a simple yes, we set ablaze
a love jealous only of the sun and
moon, circling hearts and writing
sonnets in the snow; we were us
again, and December was ours
I crashed into sleep last night,
tumbling down a nightmare of
a rabbit hole, where love was
obsolete and solace was sought
after like a sacred form of drug,
mythical and scarce, as though
I wasn’t accustomed to comfort
inside my lover’s arms- I broke
by the minute, reaching out for
an arm to hold, only continuing
to fall further in a delusional and
obscure hell, where I was both a
ringmaster and victim, bound by
my subconscious, searching for
the remains of my piloted dream.
While the sun bids farewell,
descending behind the skyline
of mountaintops, seducing the
dreamers while gently laying
their hearts to rest and tracing
the foothills in lazy patterns of
their minds, I am entranced by
another day – we, the dreamers,
wanderers, soul searchers of the
heavens, continue each day with
a dance of seduction led by the
sun and ending with the moon.
As the light began to fall
against the unseen side of
mountains, where dreams
are laid to rest, and where
promises are sprouting up
like trees, I buried my own
heart; longing for the height
to kiss the moon each night,
with the gentle songs of the
morning birds taking shelter
by my roots, I was fading by
the mountainside with only
hope and spare change, and
somehow that was enough.
Storylines in Verse 