Time and Him

No time for me anymore?
I understand.
Things get crazy nowadays;
I know how it is.

Don’t search for excuses,
’cause I see right through them
like the veil of long hair
I once used to hide my tears.

So I’ll sit here quietly
awaiting my turn
even though it never comes
and minutes turn into long hours.

Long hours spent talking
with him instead,
because he’s there, he cares,
and he’s the best thing
I could have asked for.

Soon I find myself laughing
with dry cheeks and happy eyes,
and I wonder what ever
kept me away from this happiness
for so long.

Every minute with him
seems all too quick;
every day with him
I wish could last longer.

I can open to him
as I never have dared,
and I can trust him with all
of myself.

Because in his strong arms
I feel nothing is wrong,
and with him I feel
complete.

Flowers

Watching me ageless, broken, proud
of the skin I’ve formed around my fragile soul,
I see you in my memory no more
than a whisper of air through a new form,
a new form.

Yes, I am different. But the same.

I am strong, independent, empowered,
but outside still that delicate flower that always you treated me as.
I was ever so much more than you let me be.
And yet I hid myself away,
afraid of being broken again.

And who can blame me?
When there are trees falling threatening to crush me,
weeds choking me like the lies of August,
lightning sparking fires all around me
like the fire of rage bursting into flame
in every month since.

It was never easy being a flower,
and I always yearned to at least be a rose,
if only to possess the thorns.

That one time you brought me a rose,
I played with the thorns
and dreamed I was fierce.

If I had to be a flower,
I would have liked to have been a rose.

You bought me calla lilies, though,
and they were beautiful
and they were pure
and they were everything you saw me to be,
and nothing I had ever truly been.

Highway from Maine

Long drives never tire me,
and apparently not you either,
judging by your easy laugh
and the happiness I saw in you.

All I let myself hope for
was clarity and something to believe
about you and I.

I found the answer I actually craved
after 7 long hours and 3 amazing days.

We had so much fun as I’d never had
in the months and years since,
and I think I’ve finally answered myself.

Because I only ever get in my own way,
and now, with you, things could be
simply…. simple.

He always was jealous of you:
the way you made me laugh,
how you were ever there when he wasn’t.

Even more,
how you were always there
even when he was.

My eyes light up when I speak of you,
and nothing made me happier than
those stolen minutes alone on the shore
of a distant Maine beach from my memory.

Long nights lazing around a dying fire
were all it took to see the truth behind
whispered words of a close friend
and secrets flickering in your amazing eyes.

The Boy of House Raven (sestina)

Her days were spent youthfully, her raven
hair dark against the ghostly light
of another rising dawn. In her mind
were lutes, harps, lyres of the sun
god Apollo, whose strength and might
were unmatched on this earth or any other.

And yet, she was matched by some other
proud handsome youth of the House Raven:
One day, had they tried, she might
have loved him: his kisses gentle and light
on her brow and cheeks, as from the sun,
though too meaningless to her mind.

But they never did love, for once his mind
had been set to find his significant other,
he traveled to each corner beneath the sun
with only his ever-companion, a raven.
The long journey served only to bring to light
the truth that his match just might

be too long gone from his reach. He might
have known her once, yet to pay mind
to the young girl of his childhood made light
of his heart’s woe. Uncontent with any other,
he returned to seek the girl once raven-
haired and strong-willed as the final hour of sun.

She saw him approaching in the glow of rising sun;
she had heard glorious tales of his might
and his brave quest, alone but for his raven.
But still she saw in the eye of her mind
a small boy who once treated her as any other,
and she turned away, leaving him loveless in the light.

He had lost her, and his heart once so light
grew heavy to see the girl who was the sun
of his life walk away. Every other
girl had been nothing compared to what might
have been, and she remained on his mind
as he left, his dark shadow trailing like a raven.

Flutter

Butterflies.

I’m laughing,
because your joke was funny
and I loved the thrill
of sitting so close to you.

Fast forward three times,
and I’m smiling brightly,
my grin white and genuine,
my eyes glowing from a campfire.

Here,
I had teased you about something or another,
and you were threatening me jokingly with a camera
even as I snapped my own photo of you
through the lens.

Butterflies again.
We were at a quiet table as it rained lightly outside,
and it was all I could do not to lean across the table
and tell you I knew.

A flipped boat on a river,
me laughing enthusiastically
as you clamber back above the waterline
and shoot me a half glaring look,
your eyes sparkling with happiness
as much as mine.

Would you have believed me then
if I had told you I knew
everything?

The butterflies say go on without us, go on,
and I’m all too happy to oblige.

Flutter, my heart sings.
Flutter.

An End, Once and For All

The endings were always hardest,
we agreed once,
lying on a rock near some waterfalls
mid-March, wind and sun,
picnic basket and rainbow kite that wouldn’t fly.

I was talking about Inheritance,
and you were talking about some
mysterious book series you loved
that I have since forgotten the name of,
like you.

Thoughts of a Living Thing

Burning down my memory,
leaving only a crack but no more sorrow;

Hands held high without a prayer,
given up and fallen to pieces;

Bending habits until they break,
powerless in the end.

The Spaces Between

im perfect.
it’s what i am.
don’t argue.
simply put,
it can’t be disputed.

some will agree,
some will not.
i don’t care about
what they say:
i know the truth.

that appearance isn’t everything.

and that it’s only the separation
that makes me the opposite of
imperfect.

For You (again)

I know it’s been long, but I’m still here
struggling through summer and drying my tears,
so please understand when I want you to hear
that I’m sorry.

Things have grown crazy for me, it’s true,
although no more crazy, I imagine, than you;
see, life’s been moving a little too
fast for me.

So I took a test tonight….

So I took a test tonight about my personality…. looks like I scored highest on Intellect, then Othercentricism, then Unconventionalism. Huh.

The given description for intellect is:

likes to read, enjoys complex people, carries the conversation to a higher level, has a vivid imagination, does not find conformity rewarding, can handle complex problems, tends to he a high academic achiever, more interested in intellectual pursuits than anything else, good a making impromptu speeches, full of ideas, hard to intimidate, more likely to be liberal, learning machine, good at coming up with something new, has a need to know how things work