simple

I want a world
where wishing hard matters
where winter
is shorter than spring
and thinking of someone
is surely a sign
that they are thinking
of you

trying to be

To roar, break, crash and thunder
like the clouds above
and let loose
what roils under
this skin too thin
to contain the blood
that looks to pound
against you

To be bright pink
not bloody bruised brown,
burnt, stubbed and rubbed
into the ground

To be rash
And willing to scratch
dreams hiding under scabs
And let them run freely
or float away like ashes
left to the wind

To be anything but quiet
stoic and contemplating
constantly placating
the urge to smash and run

rewind

I wish we’d met travelling
snowed in in some airport
on a long train ride
or any other place
confined by space and time

We’d exchange short narratives
of defining moments
tastes, occupations,
demographics, worst jokes
a plan or two

We’d grow tired of talking
check notifications
send some excuses
but mosty just sit together
and pass the time

We’d forget our facades
as fatigue set in
scratch, pick
yawn uncovered
exchange successes
and failures
past or foreseen
expecting nothing
revealing everything
in spite of ourselves

After which we’d never look back

Instead of years
that could fit in a day
of crossing paths
with little to say
time stretching each moment
decidedly prepared
always falling short
of desires curbed and saved
for a day that never came

background noise

I stare at your photo
but cannot discern
its want or intention
So all I trust
is that empty space
at which I stare
beyond disbelieving
at all that’s not there
to make out what is

If you must know
I’m a little bit slow
and reluctant to admit
I purposefully sit
with this view bestowed
to see what it hides
in the glow of the space
you’ll never fill

People pass
places remain
and empty spaces
won’t explain
why it is you went away
they only howl
that you’re not there
and never were

lost poem

This poem got lost
amongst your contours
and the careless wink of your eye
It fell into a daze
and sat dumbly curled
in the corner of your smile
long before it could grip
onto the grain of the page
and make images stain
like truths

This poem is just words
gesticulating wildly
snapping into line
when it wished to be gestures
dancing in the margins
dervishly spinning spirals
boring into your core

This poem is a shivering quiver
of doodles to dispel
the fear I’ve yet again
misconstrued
the space around you
to make it mean more
than the emptiness it frames

waiting

I want nothing more
than the possible
opportunity
for chance
and coincidence
to converge
into the unexpected
All that
you took
when you went away

stasis

Living is what I do
When I’m not thinking of you
I’m often in stasis these days
The sun warms my shoulders
Into feeling less old than
My bark-like skin declares

I spend my days exposed
Like light can appease thirst
And bring life to dried dirt
But it won’t
And I’m left fiddling
With thoughts too belittling
Crumbling last year’s leaves

Branch bared and limb cracked
Waiting for my spine to snap
I keep twisting
Reaching back
To rake up debris from the past
And find a match to light it
Just to keep warm through the night

that last declaration

You’re a hiccup
a glitch
a prickly itch
I make a last ditch effort
to scratch
But that was the last
phrase, lost in praise of
the last phase
the last breath
held and exhaled
my last affirmation
my last exhaultation
in mock exasperation
A concise expression
of my frustration
at all that could never be
So I’m forced to resort
to self-preservation
and grudgingly decree
Yes, I was only joking

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