late confessions

confessions pour and river
when there is no after
gathering solemnly
to pay last respects
we flail in insight’s waters
rising to see nothing
could have been altered
that this wall was where
we would falter
with no way
to divert the flow
of past regrets
flooding into swirls
of longed-for words
hardly heard
in the din
of dizzying eddies
swelling
to this end

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small confession

I am ashamed
that I preferred you
when you were
still searching,
wavering, wondering
and becoming
rather than now
that you are
decided, defined, done
and moving on

halfway there

It’s not alright, but I’m okay
I’m wading through
this soggy day
checking items that won’t wait
and prepping for that lucky break
that won’t come until too late

Outside, the leaves
dance in the wind
flitting and flittering
under city lights
like they will never
fall underfoot
to be swept away 

It’s not alright, but I’m okay
days rise late and slip away
I sit with words
tucked under my skin
the hopes they contain
seeping in, running through
flooding my dreams
with vain promises
fall, I know, will not sustain
past the first frost

time sets

This is the time of day
when the light
of inspiration
is replaced by a bulb
of annotations
listing tomorrow’s duties
when petty pinpricks of frustrations
turn to burning indignation
for giving in to expectations
only to be disappointed again

It is the time for rage
to take the shape
of something whittled
smooth and sharp
and be stuck into
our unsuspecting hearts
just to feel them skip a beat
so we’ll recall
why we keep
holding on

just rain

the rain plunks, splatters
I try to pick up a pattern
but it’s just rain
it runs, careens wreckless
down my neck yet
it’s just cold
it jabs my eyes and skin
making to soak in
but it’s just wet

tomorrow there will be
yet more wasted leaves
dead as the words
you dropped at my feet
muffling my pleas
for some sense to dispense
with this need
to come clean

oppresence

In your presence
I cannot write
I cannot read
I cannot dream
I cannot wonder
I your presence I count
hours and days
that won’t count
but will account
for the waste I leave behind
In your presence
I count the beats
that will never repeat
yet will ever be the same
In your presence I take all
and offer but remarks
of what falls
short of its mark
yet not far enough
to be ignored
In your presence
I long to lay on the ground
and let the rain
wash my remains away
leaving my soul
to seep into the ground

under cover

that lie that used to slip
off my shoulders each night
threatening to leave me
naked at your side
fits better since
I no longer stand so proud
and stay close to the ground
more common to your kind
it keeps us warm
when the sun goes down
and the wind sneaks up
on our weathered hearts
still I don’t dare declare peace
lest we ease off into sleep
and dream of what
we cannot keep
without these lies
weaved to lift
our heads towards the sky
and shroud our gaze
from the grave we’ve made
of this bed where we lay
at the end of each day
spent picking loose threads apart

on any day

I marvel at contrasts
lull over dirt
admire the patterns
left by rust
I clear the clutter
focus on points
feast on colour
connect the dots
I look behind
savour the best
then look ahead
to face the worst

And all the countless
in betweens
I try to fill
with endless reams
of lists of things
that I should do
All to stopper
thoughts of you

because

when I saw you
words bubbled
to the surface
reflecting universes
of all that never was
and would never be

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