lost poem

jotNrot

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

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awake again

you’re the ghost that keeps bringing
to each day a new misgiving
to wake me with fists and teeth clenched tight as my chest
to relearn to release the regret
of having done my best to
put conviction to the test
and lay dignity to rest
as I plainly confessed
all you had long ago guessed
and used for your paltry gains
already swept in the pile of remains
to be forgotten

having failed to impress
I continue to protest
while I still have words to attest
that I got so much more than you gave

still days expand
like rubber bands
only to snap my
expectations back
as they draw to a dead rose end
closing me in with my dread
of another night ahead
streaming dreams of change
only to wake with my heart
picked apart and disarmed
yet again

another summer night

I would drink tonight
but I don’t want to ignite feelings
that can’t find air to flare
trees shelter the stars
from wishes I would fire
at them accusingly

there was another night like this
where the music filtered through trees lined like a cage around me
and I overcame apathy and swam through the summer heat
to find something to move me

I got there in time
to hear songs and be reminded
that I once used to love
enough to dance
the musicians encore
joined my lament
with halfhearted strums
and we all sang
of the time that was
cursing it all for having fooled us
into thinking it could ever
be enough

though I know better
the body still responds
to the music pulsing expectation
driving will from gut to limbs
how can Monday compete
when even nostalgia needs
a shot off stage to shine

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

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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