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.
with a push to the winds
you are pushing back,
fighting for the control
I never once let you have;
becoming a master in a
game built for two, being
played by us three, and
I am at a loss as to what
the rules are anymore.
all I am capable of doing
is to keep pushing, hoping
that you’ll continue to push
back, and to fear the day
when you no longer do.
how will you decipher when
my words have shifted from
you to another? will you notice
when I stop mentioning your
eyelashes and how free they
make your spirit, or the rosy
tint of your cheeks as you
laugh to the heavens while
sipping on Jameson rocks?
I suppose it shouldn’t matter;
if you can continue seeing
yourself in my words, then at
least you still see yourself in
my heart, thinking of us too.
Remember how we used to
make fun of those lovers
bidding on their happily
ever after only two weeks
in? We’d laugh and gawk,
swearing that compassion
grew only with time and
understanding, and no one
else would ever compare
to what we had anyway.
But look at you now…
bidding your heart away
on another, two seconds in,
with only a lifetime of
happiness up for stake.
It was the back and forth
calling at the docks, with
tides turning into waves,
splashing for attention
but still going unanswered
as you heard the creak of
wood, and still chose to
stand with your back turned,
one eye on the sky – even
the ocean couldn’t bring
you home; it was just our
chatter of promises, left
rummaging in the waters,
pleading with the dock for
an ounce of breath or a
guided light back safely.
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.
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.
I am at my saddest knowing
that listening to others opinion
is still ruled in favor of following
your own heart; not being able to
love or laugh beyond memories
cast twice in words and written
in the shadows of the moon.
We have nothing left but time to
fix, yet unless these words are
whispered by another they are no
longer truth, but rapid successions
of a lonely, still beating heart.
With six words to my
name I have a voice
to fill the silence,
befriending echoes
and calling tomorrow
my new home;
with shades of
pleasures to pain,
imagining stale
lifetimes recanted
in words, I have new
daydreams to roam.
Storylines in Verse 