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.
Just when the sun thought
she would never love again,
the world as she knew it
shifted, rotated, turning
everything right side up,
and she could still see
mountains, valleys and
lakes, and her hidden smile
returned with the memory
of the blush of the clouds –
before, she was only loving
with half her heart on the
world, and finally she could
open herself up, to love again.
they called her a dreamer,
a wanderer, a bohemian
Aphrodite with words that
cut like a knife; her pen as
her weapon, she was carving
sonnets into the eastern half
of the mountains with only
moonlight and a name on
her lips, while whistling
away love on her sleeve.
she was independence in
July, and as soft as the wind
in late autumn – she was an
attraction to be seen, but like
the promise of the setting sun,
she would leave in a haze, in
a dream set in stone, following
her heart to places unknown.
with the cooling final
days of summer, I took
to my match and pen to
ignite my first and only
bonfire of the season;
tearing apart the wooden
foundations of my past
one wall at a time and
ripping out the faded love
letters of my journal to
set aflame. they burnt in
a golden haze past the
hours of the moon, never
to see the daylight again.
This year for your birthday,
I had wished to grab hold
of the stars, sewing them
together, creating a blanket
to warm you on the coldest
of nights, seeing as you no
longer seek out my embrace,
or climb to the top of the
mountains west past Boulder,
standing on the peak picking
enough of the clouds to make
a pillow for you to fall fast
asleep, seeing as you haven’t
my arms to rock you soundly,
or fill a pool with waters
from Bermuda, so if ever you
are feeling lost, you’ll have
an escape to swim to when you
think you can’t still come to me;
but sadly, I have only my mere
words, and I shall have to
hope it’ll be enough to convey
all the thoughts I haven’t yet
said, past – happy birthday.
Let’s just ride; let us
hop in a car and ride.
Drive west through the
mountains and when we
get to the top shout out
all of our insecurities and
see where they fall, for
nothing can evoke our
fears once we own them.
We can continue driving
until we run out of road,
stopping in the sand and
kicking off our shoes as
we run into the waters,
drowning the words that
we have chosen to keep
silent, and when the moon
has set we’ll start all over
again, heading east past
the plains, or south into
the deserts – wherever
you want my dear, and
that’s the beauty of it all,
let’s just hop in and ride.
if I had a dream to risk
to come true, I’d spend
my night dancing under
the moonlight with you,
two hours past midnight
holding each other close,
we’d be laughing until the
morning light rose, reliving
our first date with twenty
questions and promises
foretold, foregoing the
dancing for blankets in
the cold, we’d have just
one night to allow our
imaginations to roam,
before separately we
each ventured home.
I spent yesterday in
silence, trying to
escape the repetition
of your name on my lips,
fleeing from my feeble
attempts at capturing
your beauty into verse;
yet even with a lack of
words, they circled
around my head, creating
visions of your laugh
reflecting off of the
outskirts of the light of
the moon, and I awakened
to a new kind of silent
poetry, and I was in love.
The last time we spoke I was
too caught up in your words
to even get lost in your eyes;
eyelashes fluttering in time
to the ever rising heartbeats.
I missed the glance, except I
heard you this time – I heard
you say you’re out, but it
can’t stop my memories from
reaching out to love you so.
So there I stood on the
slope of dating someone
else, but not quite ready
to leave the sunset behind;
looking westwards towards
beauty yet silence, while
hearing voices of moving on
at my back – I heard it all,
I just wasn’t listening as
I stood still, baiting the
sun to move without my
noticing, hoping without
hope it’d see and shine
light on me once again.
Storylines in Verse 