The neighborhood dims, as I try to fill up the days,
Smoking on the porch, drinking off the cold,
Letting time pass, quite unsure what I’m doing it all for,
I keep hoping that once morning comes, I’ll wake feeling renewed,
But everything seems to disappear, blasted away from my frigid view,
Leaving me standing alone with nothing to hold onto,
Searching, screaming for the sunlight to return,
To dribble over my face, cure my ruined tongue,
And make this feeling pass — anything, please,
Come get me out of here.
Lightheaded with heat,
Air siphoned from lungs,
Absent, wandering attention,
Focus shifting to foreboding distances,
Dappling light and elusive stars,
Busy bees for eyes,
Brain kept occupied with thoughts,
Green stems, cobble paths, red tiled rooftops,
Dirty shoes, angry cars, gleaming puddles,
Filled and far,
Far away from you.
He watches her, enraptured.
Like she’s a slender shaft of light.
Deep underground where nothing,
but his demons are allowed.
Words spill, gliding,
unbidden from his lips
before he even realizes he’s spoken.
And when she turns to meet him,
Fire blooms in his chest.
All he can do is look on,
caught by the bright blaze
of the sun’s intensity,
of focus, unwavering.
Nothing more than an
ignorant child ensnared by
He steps forward.
A giant with a head and a half of excess.
Behind him, light flickers and wanes.
Wax drips, candles shush in a flash of peace.
The deafening silence between heaves of storm
Made more intimidating trapped in electric blue bottles
Sharp and mirthless
The rolling shards of glass
Crunched under my hands
Aged twenty porcelain, torn in twos and fours and tens
Priced ink shattered at the seams
Koi’s bleed, giving flowers life
Not so permanent after all
Numbness spreads, disconnecting
And all I see, all that matters is—
Pieces of soul siphoned away
Old, green keepers
Lost behind rotting flesh
And time’s unending cabaret.
The air breaks. His vision blurs.
The world sharpens, then splits
from edge to edge until—
And the crash back into himself
is violent, but grounding.
Because he knows now.
This is a dream.
A deluded fantasy conjured from longing
for someone trapped behind wood and nails
six feet out of reach.
Fledgling smile on my face,
Clinking iron gone from my chest,
and before me, the open road,
glittering with fresh dewdrops
and smelling startlingly like the sun—
I’m finally awake.
Here, I sit, bereft,
Listening for lost voices,
In dingy car lots,
Remnants of a time,
When I could still call your name,
And pray mine followed,
Life was better then,
When we were young and too bold,
When you called me yours.
I’ll be by your side
Until you can look at me
With happiness in your eyes
That rivals the you
I didn’t get the chance to love.