Staring into the gale
Of me
Is something I avoid myself
But I’m grateful for your prying eyes
Feeling the tension of the day
Inside
Is something I’ve learned to ignore
It’s a thunderous roar in here
Tag: poet
Chilly
You’ve got the sleeves of your sweater
Pulled up past your wrist
It’s chilly, but not quite that chilly
I’ve got the scarf
That I think makes me look sophisticated
It’s chilly, but is it this chilly?
It’s that hot apple cider chilly
The fuzzy blanket chilly
Preferably with you chilly
Liquid Courage
They tell us that blood is thicker than water
There are many times when that is true
But I’ve lived days where the water rushes
Louder and stronger than the blood of our birth
You dive deep into me
Often to uncomfortable depths
But unlike the others
You can withstand the pressure
Touching bottom when I need it most
Herein
I’ve felt every neuron humming
Every synapse firing
With both love and hate
Herein
I’ve held fractures and hope
Dreams and cynicism
In this heart
Herein
This body is a temple
It was razed and rebuilt
A testament to the strength
Herein
There are echoes in these halls
Dancing among the pillars of memory
I’ll always hold artifacts of you
Herein
Threads
Do you still think of me?
I’ve always been a free spirit
A slave to no one
To nothing
Except the thought of you
I guess that’s real friendship
Being unable to let go
Like the same thread
Used across a hundred tapestries
Will you always weave through
The changes in my life?
Maybe
Maybe it’s alright to feel this way.
Maybe this is the true way of things.
The way of human beings since we’ve been around,
but have always been afraid to talk about.
Maybe every connection is special and unique and can never be replaced.
Maybe we err when we try to replace them.
Maybe we’re doing it all wrong.
Am I?
Questions on Truth
I clench my jaw
As the world turns
Is there respite?
Is there grace for the weary?
Is there strength for the weak?
Or is it all myth?
Is myth as powerful as truth?
Is truth more the power of an idea
Than its accuracy?
The outcome of a belief
More than that belief’s validity?
One can have knowledge
Of the machinery of the universe
But do they possess truth?
Does that knowledge inspire?
Is truth really just inspiration?
Submersible
Here on the bottom
We treasure every breath
And share each one
We’ve been here before
Walking these subterranean depths
We navigated them back then
Is this really any different?
This time
There is no chart
No compass
No clear cut dreams
Love is lost
Yet friendship can live
That One Day
There’s always that one day
When we shatter
Our porcelain existence rushing downwards
To a concrete awakening
There’s always that one day
When we scatter
Grains of sand displaced
By the tumultuous wave of reality
There’s always that one day
When we bleed
Profusely
There’s nothing more to be said
Goodbyes at the airport days
Sudden phone call days
Goodbyes in a hospital days
There are always those days
That define us
Right Here
You were right here
I know this happened
Before the gaslights
Before the firefights
I’ve pretended that I wasn’t
That it was a different person
In many ways it was
But I was right there
In spirit
It’ll seem like a blink
At the end of this road
That happiness so small
That pain echoing louder
With age we may forget
Should we?
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