walls

in the jaws of late night conversation, the steam of our sweat puddles in my hands and I lay it on your chest clenching my fingers along-side your humble, breaking breast. the secrets of the night creep like strangers along the lines of your face. you store them under your tongue, saving them for battle when the west moon glow has all but won. my love is still an infant, still birthing its new pains; yours is swollen from a heartache; yet still similar of the same. with lead walls surrounding you on every other side, it’s hard to hear you thinking, it’s impossible to help you fly. it is a complicated matter, a noose whose hands deliberately choke my neck; preventing me from speaking, taking all my breath. I enable your behavior because I know that you need time, to understand this voyage and to reinvent your shine. but exhaustion feeds on wisdom, as it comes to me on waves, declaring the apparent, whispering my dismay.

photo found on: http://lithomancy.tumblr.com/

unrequited

I am contemplating the degree of our severance. I am conscious inside the collapse of my lungs. in the long strands of beach that began our birth, I am covered in the sand stones that opened up the shells of our fears. the wake of our love is upon us. the doom of the past has befallen. jaded with desire I have left open the door in which I once walked. I now chase the vision of the dream I clutched ten winters ago in the platoon of my youth. it would seem that the lessons that are laced around my sometimes stubborn feet, are golden from the heat from the repetition of my mistakes. I have paced around the oddity of the shape of these walls … continually make-shifting and befriending the damaged who come to me in heartbreak, unable to withstand their sorrow, and too broken to sustain a fall. I am a reminder of all things past and of all things yet to come; a paradox of unrequited love.

photo found at: http://fencephiladelphia.com/wowfences.html

distance

it is empty in the middle of us.
wide open spaces charm the likelihood of our fate as the breeze begs we come to her like fallen stars in search of meaning. her breath is our savior as she holds both the vacancy of my distance and the secrets of your shadow in the palm of her hand. you are hidden in constant separation from the truth that would melt my fear and I am awakened with that certainty by the core of the night. I cannot break you open in spite of my love, nor hold hostage your sweat as it releases by pages in the aftermath of my tears. our passions are paralleled, and only sometimes crisscross; and it is within that hollowness, that I shriek for our loss.

Photo found at:

http://autumnaskswhy.blogspot.com/2011/06/distance.html

midnight

I am outlined in the memory of your void. I am a cut out of myself, paralleled to a universe I remember on friday evenings as the warm sun sets on the tepid week. the choreography of that intimacy has left me hungry for a touch whose roots grow longer than mine, whose faith is wiser in reflection, and whose commitment grounds me in all of his certainty. I want now to be entangled in love … weaving in and out of my own personal independence, with his, growing in spaces we cannot see and surviving the length of time with love buried under layers of passions whose fire burns the stench of my breath. there used to be demons who would summon me, pretending they could feel, forging their hearts into mine so they could forget their pain. they used to walk the lines of my affection .. crisscrossing between sanity and madness … playing games with my heart, hiding behind the refuge they thought was bliss as they fled their uncertainties hunting after me. their weaknesses no longer have welcomed residency in my heart. my strength is like iron now, grounded so deep that it allows me to love the height of passion. I have danced alone, in sparkling moonlights that would last from january to june. I have tasted love and ache on the same tongue that speaks your name and I know now, with complete certainty, that I do not want … but also do not fear the art of dancing alone in the wakes of a midnight air.

Photo: Charles Russel Loomis

“Woodland Fairies Dancing in the Moonlight”

awake

like fingers, our web of maturity stems into the different closets of our past, building upon the insecurities that manifest in our limbs. inside my walls, you echo with brokenness. once again I stand on the sidelines, attuned to the journey we are about to pursue. your smile is hollow. it holds on to the past, disrobing your love into tiny fragments of give and take. I build you up with all that I can, but I fall short in my attempts because I am not her. though she is dust in a memory locked inside your soul, her dirt has been caught in a sandstorm of hurt swirling about your beating heart. you are unaware of its strength. I am awake in its heat.

Photo: http://binford-bellstudio.blogspot.com