Ethereal
In my chest
a raw, flippant beating
taken but breathing
in your smell
frost and rose red
a chill on my skin
just looking at you
petals to pupils
dilate, and my diaphragm
folds at the bend
the arch of your spine
like a branch
your arms enveloping
the moment encased
I wish to stay
forever or longer
with you
The Crane
Climbing the crane
peeling pupils up and up
facing the clouds to touch
to hold
in my hands
like pillows resting
on my palms
a stillness in my chest
brings meaning to the air
I breathe because I want to feel
like any of this matters
Everything is so loud
music blasting
eardrums bursting
fingers buzzing
a jackhammer
to the brain
chanting someone’s name
its indiscernible–huh?
indiscernible shrieking
for joy
for cheer
for love
for hate
because you feel like it
all the talking
lips moving
shifting at the gumline
saying nothing
I can’t hear you
speak louder
say it again
shout it if you have to
drown it out if you have to
Please
I’m afraid I’ll l o s e you
between the ringing
in my head
and the cracks
in the skyline
Parking Lot
I miss parking lot you
the you that dashed on concrete
raced in grocery carts
the you that laughed
until you cried
the you that always knew what to say
to ease the angst
I miss the feeling
of beautiful hurt
like pushing on a bruise
or twisting a tooth
with the tingle and ache
that made me fall for you
without stopping
I miss parking lot you
that I’ll never meet
for the first time
or the last
again
Tending to Sunsets
life may be worth the tears
if for the sunsets
which close tired eyes
meld the heart in soft colors
wrap heavy bones in the dark
it’s something of an exhalation
breathing over cityscapes
and rolling hills
it lets you sink when you are stiff
think when you are blurry
in the eyes and head
how many skies have you tended
turning day to night
how many stars have you counted
losing track always
how many sunsets were meant for you
Eyes
I’ve always had a thing for eyes
The bulbous ones that pop from their sockets
The ones that aren’t there but should be
The flat ones– sagging or deflated (minding the pus)
The tired ones after too much Netflix
The red ones burned from a heartbreak or two
The closed ones–either dead or will be
will be eventually
When it’s all over (and I’m in a manic mood)
How was I so blind to the world
to not know its beauty?
Oh, how beautiful the world is
when every feeling falls upon my flesh
and brings a tear to my eye
and many more when I think of the enormity of it all
I shall cry when it is all over
when I shall say goodbye
to this place, I only knew for a short time
I was so blind
for there is suffering, but the beauty keeps me here
To live and to breathe, only to lose it all
I love this life; I am not blind, and it is beautiful
