thinking of you

Toy, in attachment.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Caught between lifestyles
of silence or whispers gently
rocking me to sleep, I was
burdened with decisions that
I had no control over – I was a
puppet playing with my own
strings, tugging and pulling,
alone with my thoughts in a
constant contemplation if the
only decision I had left in my
pocket was to allow the strings
to break. I didn’t want to flee,
it wasn’t in my nature, but my
wrists were burning from the
weight, and I was in need of
some comfort – I just didn’t
know if I could still rely on
you to be the one to save me.

Curious.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I saw you everywhere I looked,
from the carvings of the base of
the trees to the butterflies floating
from wildflower to wildflower,
knowing that they had the exact
same spirit I came to love, in you.
I saw you in the sun coming in
through the tree line, bouncing
reflections off the boulders and
helping guide my path. You are
whispering in the breeze, calling
out hope, because that is the only
thing I have left to hold onto; and
I felt you in the breeze as I reached
the top of the summit, knowing you
were wrapping yourself around me.
I still see you in everything, I only
wonder where you still find me.

Thirty-Six.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Somewhere along the trail, I
left my heart in the mountains;
rooted deeply between a broken
boulder and a stream of yellow
wildflowers, growing in patches
of the rising sun between trees
sprouted in a soil of hope and
abundant harmony. I planted
my heart, in the simplest of
desires that you would be the
one to go back and find it, half
buried in the shadows on the
western side of the mountain
calling out to you. I am in love,
somewhere between breezes
and the boulders; all that’s left
is for you to come find me.

Going Home.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

my feet had finally touched
the soil I had been longing
for, these past two years, and
yet – this didn’t quite feel like
home anymore. after all the
planning, reminiscing, and the
bribing past love and devotion,
this wasn’t the landscape of
my dreams anymore, for my
only true home, is with you.

Shadows.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

between whispers and sonnets
we could cover the landscape of
the moon, carving out milestones
in memories and gentle lullabies
swaying in-between constellations,
fragments of stars and promises.
together we can illuminate the sky
past dusk, with hope just on the
horizon and a laughter of colorful
verse to lighten the darkness; with
each other hand in hand, we can
create the crevices of the moon to
hold our secrets, until we can find
the words to wish onto the world.

Thirty-Four.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

With two heartbeats past
three in the morning, when
even the crickets are trying to
rest and the trees are refusing
to budge in the light whistling
breeze of the moon and stars,
when the cold floorboards are
creaking beneath my footsteps,
with the gentle soothing sounds
of whispers at my touch – I am
alone with the choices you had
made, without a second notice
to the sound of my heartbeat,
shifting amongst the silence in
a city that only seems to sleep
when thoughts become burdens.

A New Story.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We were alternating
writing chapters of our
story; yours were always
longer, while I was rushing
to get to the finish, trying to
figure out how it all ends, and
you were right – I was missing
all of the little things, details on
the page, not stopping to take a
breath with every little change
in verse. You said it was time
for us to rewrite our chapters
separately, and then you left.
I hadn’t any idea on how to
start, except to take a deep
breath, and to try detailing
out every memory that I
was missing out on in
your absence – filling
pages with chapters
of what I hoped
would turn into
a new middle,
not a fantasy
about our
ending.

Answers.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

It was a wave of uncertainty
flooding my thoughts and my
desires past the blue ink stains
littering the page in repetition
to a beat I’d only heard when I
laid my head against your chest;
it was only an idea, catapulted
into reasoning as I placed every
effort into twisting and bending
the contours of the words, losing
their voice as I transformed them
into lyrics of a song, sung only by
the two of us, as it forgot the only
question that it had belonged to.

Morning Reflections.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Ever so silently, I crept into
the blanket of stars last night,
hoping for their gentle embrace
as I longed to be near the moon,
casting wishes on tomorrow and
singing alongside the breeze that
only comes at twilight; rocking so
soundly to the whistle of trees
below, hopping from dream to
dream with every newly fallen
star, and realizing too quickly
the sun would rise, and I’d be
falling from grace, without a
gentle kiss from the moon to
guide me into my day, and so
deftly I cried – a dewy mist on
morning grass, left as a promise
that I had been thinking of you.

Flying by.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

It was one of those lazy
Sunday afternoons, with
the reflections of the sun
glistening off the ripples
of the bay, showcasing
all of the answers to the
questions I never thought
to ask, with the laughter
of the children echoing past
my daydreams, when I saw
the first butterfly of this lost
season floating by me – it
was innocent and endearing;
promising to the new one
ahead. I tried to grab hold,
but like change it was quite
unpredictable, yet always
eager for us to take notice.