I long to be the warmth beneath your skin

That dull ache in your bones

That breath you can’t quite catch

The one that sits in your throat

Just out of reach.

I long to be the grass underneath

The rock where you rest

On the blanket that shelters your thoughts

Under the tree filtering harsh sunlight

On a cloudless afternoon.

I long to be the sky overhead

Open to all of your words

Shouted and whispered

All at once both captive and free

Boundless and restricted

Unearthed and undiscovered.

I long to be your midnight indulgence

The best kept secret,

Even from yourself

And yet, the one you’re endlessly proud

To call your own.

I long for contradictions to be made plain

Intersecting forces to quiet harsh tones

And for conflicting voices to see reason

This is no time for folly

Hearty foolishness is not welcome here.

Headfirst

I fell headfirst into too many words

My mouth caved in

Before my heart could even begin

To open.

I fell headfirst into your name

If I could call you mine

And still get your attention

I would.

I fell headfirst into your love

Not for myself, but for everything else

Your world was always brighter

Especially after rainfall.

I fell headfirst into silence,

Hesitation primed to implode

With the force of a thousand pound

Wait…

I fell headfirst into a grassy field

Rolled until my throat erupted

Laughter tearing itself free

Taking flight on a exchanging of words.

I fell headfirst into foolishness

Foundation on a light whisper

Dust suspended in a shadow’s kiss

Already fading with the rising sun.

Her voice was a candlelit picnic

on the beach,

Soft as the ocean waves,

Leaving impressions on your heart

Like the sand that you carried

In small dunes

As the sounds of guitar strings fade

With the rising sun.

Sometimes thoughts are like puzzle pieces cut from different molds

Varying heights sticking out from incongruent connections

Creating a landscape of bumps and grooves

Where lights seeps in and fades.

Feelings are scattered like a tattered tapestry

Interwoven with mismatched fabrics

Colors muddled within the threads

Contrasting a lack of cohesion with overzealous amalgamation. 

Notes crowd the spaces in between

Dissonant chords unified only in their aversion to harmony

Establishing an economy of fickle foundations

Bracing themselves for deconstruction. 

Inconsistency

I exist between old age and immaturity

Fluttering between fleeing attention

And resigned forgetfulness

Uncertainty and a vague notion

That nothing ever really changes.

A brightly colored kite

A gnarled oak overhanging a riverside

Gently swaying and creaking

Like aged bones under mottled skin.

My lips are dyed with passion

Lingering with the taste of honey

While my tongue lies still

Weighed down by heavy thoughts

Whose reminiscent nature begets woe.

Fickle foundations crumble

Swiftly shifting lines casting aside

An aside to the inner workings

Of a gently breaking heart.

Taking in stride the infantile steps

Between getting there and making it,

I walked after I crawled

Before I crawled again.

Creativity is my prescription for the ills

Of a world aching for creation

As apathetic entropy deconstructs

What little joy remains.

Fragmentations of crushed pigments

Stain the corners of pages

Outlining the underlying fallacies

Of complications and pains.

The heart aches for the unnamed song

A note beckoning rest to the weary

A tune extending silence

Where a cacophony of thoughts disturb.

Unclaimed emotions lying in wait

Just out of reach

In the outskirts of consciousness

Taunting our lives, listless.

Leave us to merely exist,

Awaken to daily monotony

While glazed over expressions

Mark themselves on faces of stone.

Corrected Correction

I removed your name from my phone’s dictionary

Having grown too tired of it trying to bring you back

Auto-correcting you into sentences meant for other people

Reminding me that you still exist outside of this life. 

I would type “tomorrow” and you would appear

An electronic representation of both presence and absence

Contradictory states of existence forcefully inserted

Behind hopes and dreams for a new day.

Now you are gone

With your weightless well wishes floating with you

Trailing shadows as you pass over

Ascending into an alternate space. 

Intertwined Impressions

The impressions on my mind

Are the lack of impressions in my bed

Feelings neither lonely nor ecstatic

And in the evening hours

I roll over

Longing to find your touch

To breathe “I love you” on your neck

While tracing vows on your shoulders

And memories down your back

To pull you to the warmth in my chest

Vessel lit by more than pleasant chance

Then filled with song and silence

To print your name on my lips

With overuse in laughter

And the quiet need to share my soul

To read my own, on your eyelids

Fading, projecting some shadow of myself

Between the shades of dusk and dawn

To waken to you unvanished

Returned from self-inflicted exile

And thoughts of worthlessness

Yet all are whispers and whimpers

Pathetic musings in the midnight hour

Scraping by on the way to rest.