I’ve traveled to the edge,
where I could sit upon my
own dreams, counting the
stars as they fell in delicate
repetition of the beats of my
heart, soothing the fall with
the faintest whisper of blues;
my thoughts left to scour the
sky as I paint the horizon in
colors I’ve never before used,
watching and waiting for night
to fall, searching my mind for a
chance at escape, set against
a sight of lasting midnight hues.
I crave delicate droplets
of poetry falling in rhythm
to the whispers of the wind,
where the simplest patterns
of emotion and honesty are
left to haphazard conditions
caused by the writer’s pen –
where storms can break out
in agony, tearing readers at
the core, or washes away all
sadness, starting over once
again, where the delicacy of
words fall like droplets in the
wind, carrying my feelings
with me, until the very end.
We were left to wander
the streets with the signs
of dusk looming, set in
motion beneath a subtle
hue of jazz found in the
stars, with you and I as
the trumpet and the sax,
trailing songs with our
footsteps, singing along;
we were born wanderers,
left to the rhythms set by
the land, following along
with the moon and stars
guiding us hand in hand
to the places only seen by
the inside of our dreams.
I once knew how ink
bled from my loosely
strangled ideas into
scraps of feelings left
behind, burned across
the page, where desire
whispered against the
frailty of my own truths;
I had known the depths
of roots, as they were
bound like shackles to
the ground, where my
limitations had become
the soil in which I grew.
On the Phoenix we rose,
flying higher than the jazz
notes in June, with a steady
pour of those whiskey sours
at the ready, you and I were
back to the golden ages of
love after midnight, found
in the playful rhythms of a
trumpet and her sax; where
time for love had become a
luxury, yet the jazz kept on
swaying, and the drinks had
kept on pouring, falling into
repetitions of my heartbeat
singing against your chest –
we were flying higher than
the Phoenix, and we flew on.
Truth was shredding
through the darkness
like the sun kisses the
stars awake, blending
shades of words into
wisdom and feelings,
cutting through edges
of blackened dust by
the fiercest of kisses;
truth lies in the dark
shadows, softened by
a denial of the unseen,
where words can hide
emotions and actions,
destroying any hope
of a peaceful recovery.
I thought I had your heart,
all this time I was calling it
mine, still believing that our
memories had been painted
on the walls of your heart in
crimson shades of the golden
days when a whisper was all
that it took, more than just a
look and I was yours and you
were all mine – but with days
fading, and the paint chipping
away, I ask myself how long
I shall be allowed to stay…
I’ll meet you at the edge
of the sunset, between the
wishes and mislaid dreams,
where the sun and moon are
dancing, exchanging glances
passed around like whispers,
subtle and never seen; where
colors are blending into stars,
floating higher than the night,
casting shadows of our hearts
into stories shining bright – I
will meet you soon, my love,
where the moon and sun are
free, dancing on the horizon
just waiting for you and me.
At the crevice of the turn,
where the wild flowers in
yellows and whites dance
side to side as though no
one were watching, where
the tree line is hidden from
immediate view, and owls
retreat to during the longest
hours of the sun in summer,
where a laugh or even the
slightest giggle can get lost
for miles in any breeze – my
heart is beating fast against
your giggle and sigh, I have
re-found love on your terms,
gently rustic and everlasting.
We said goodbye to dusk,
filtered in the shadows of
the stars, with the subtlety
of the sun looming over the
darkening horizon – we lost
ourselves under the lights of
the sky, sun-kissed in gentle
waves of a pleasure and in a
promise; we held on to each
other, knowing our own limits
but with the subtle passing of
glances between the sun and
moon, we had realized how a
love could truly be so infinite.
Storylines in Verse 