Fog settles on a pretending metropolis
as dawn caresses the sky,
my eyes open.
You are so near,
but feel so far;
I cannot believe I deserve you.
Rain gathers in my mind,
while you whisper glimmers of sunlight.
Pulling me in with your warmth,
drying the droplets from my face,
pleading for acceptance with your embrace.
Bright affection glints off puddled highways
calming my disquieted mind,
if only for a moment.
I close my eyes,
breath you in;
Who knows what one deserves anyway?
Fog settles on a pretending metropolis
as dawn caresses the sky,
my eyes open.
You are so near,
but feel so far,
for I cannot believe I deserve you.
Rain gathers in my mind,
while you whisper glimmers of sunlight.
Pulling me in with your warmth,
drying the droplets from my face,
pleading for acceptance with your embrace.
You are essentials elements,
proteins and nucleic acids,
woven into the fabric of my life.
Dusk’s fog descends upon me.
Tense and weak, wetness settles into
my office weary muscles.
Skipping over grey hay’s needles,
deaf to coin rattles and cat calls,
sighing into a numbing release.
My eyes close;
stopping and starting,
the hum of the train
and the chatter of passers by
passes by me.
Imagining your warm,
broad,
arms,
engulfing my deadened body.
I awaken with the steam
rising inside of my silenced senses.
Blood quickening,
I become vital again,
submerged
in push and pull of your absence…
Till at last I settle on waiting,
because that’s all there really is to do.
Dusk’s fog descends upon me.
Tense and weak, wetness settles into
my office weary muscles.
Skipping over grey hay’s needles,
deaf to coin rattles and cat calls,
sighing into a numbing release.
Closing my eyes,
stopping and starting,
the hum of the train
and the chatter of passers by
passes by me.
I imagine your warm,
broad,
arms,
engulfing my deadened body.
I awaken with the steam
rising inside of my silenced senses.
Blood quickening,
I become vital again,
submerged in memories of you.
“Don’t linger,” I caution myself.
“Fall harder,” I hum back.
Till at last I settle on waiting,
because that’s all there really is to do.
Pale night caresses your features,
bending softly around the frame
of your raven plumage —
an evolutionary holdover that beckons
me in the dark.
Lost in a primal blue ocean,
I know not how I got here.
Our wills intertwine and pull upon each other.
Your body knows how to envelop mine.
And with trembling hands and a
sideways smile, I confess a silently
that I cannot imagine ever wanting to leave.
Pale night caresses your features
bending softly around the frame
of your feathering plumage —
an evolutionary hold over that beckons
me in the dark.
Our wills intertwine and pull upon each other.
Lost in a primal blue ocean,
I know not how I got here.
And with trembling hands and a
sideways smile, I confess quietly
that I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave.
driven backwards
time bending
what is forward anyway?
movement is an illusion
i am chaos
and so are you
break dimensions
pull me through
look to the past
contemplate the future with me
light devoured
the horizon can be reached
on the other side
float through space like the sea
Words hang in the space between us,
we could grab and swallow them.
Savory and stale,
sweet nothings and soft laughter …
mere morsels of a love past.
Empty conversation is
more painful than silence,
and love lost still better
than love left to rot.
There was nothing remarkable about Nicole except her mouth. Her mouth was small and shapely — pink and perfect, as if Botticelli painted it himself. I fell in love with her mouth. I fell in love with her in the same manner that anyone ever falls in love — by ignoring all other dissatisfying traits.
When I say I loved her mouth, I mean everything belonging to it. Her voice was sweet and low. Her teeth all in a row of ivory white, like the naturals on a piano. Every word was a song, every sentence a sonata. Once, I think, she told me I never listen. I don’t know how she could say that when I was so clearly fixated on her voice.
Sometimes, she would pucker her lips just slightly when she was thinking. It was somewhat awkward on its own, but endearing, and all I could think about was kissing her for the rest of the day.
And to kiss her — oh to kiss her! Was there ever a sweeter thing? Moist and soft, but not overly so on either trait, her kisses were like warm silk pillows embracing me.
One particularly chilly day, she came home from work. She began to tell me about her day and I noticed a sort of off-color smear near the corner of her mouth, lightly tinged with red. What is this?, I asked, and for the first time I noticed her eyes were sort of a bland shade of hazel — like the color of a smoothie that on first sight you’re convinced will taste like vomit. She began to ramble nervously, I’m sorry, I just … Well, my lips were chapped, and my friend, she had lips gloss, and .. Your friend? What friend? I’ve never met your friend.
Blind rage struck me, I began to approach her, and she began to back away … after that there are only flashes of what happened, I was so angry. I loved her, and she betrayed me, but I love her still. There was some fighting. We made love. She was beautiful, but not long after she was gone. She was so young. How did she leave me so soon?
When she died, I asked the mortician not to put make-up on her mouth. He tried to explain to me that she was different now, that her body was in decay – I didn’t care.
At the funeral only her family, my family, and a few close friends attended. It was held in a church, despite my lack of faith. It was dry-eyed and silent, except for the minister going on about how she has started a new journey; she will see the face of God and he will smile upon her; she is in a place where there is no pain. It was as if he was trying to make us jealous.
I walked up to the casket and looked down at her, suddenly horrified. Her pink lips were white and cracked, a masterpiece left to rot. I scanned the rest of her face, her body, her delicate hands I never noticed but held so often. It was at that moment that I realized that I never knew Nicole, and now no one ever will.
Nostalgia, weighing
me down like a lead vest
protecting nothing.
LitSpit 