You Stepped Through The Door, And Knew Something Was Off.

You stepped through the door, and knew something was off.

That something...was the light.

Three Point Five

Words brew inside and

Yet, they aren't complete,

so I wait with them.

Other poetry

these almost goodbyes

look at us tousled in the wind again unable to hold onto anything of solid security

our loving lips parting to speak of jealousy and wrong assumptions, still wet with days-old passion and exchange

look at this distance and the short time it takes to fall back into its trap of feeling isolated while apart

the mouth of hunger is unfed and aches to be satiated

look at these smooth memories of hellos and long kisses and wonder why we trip upon these almost goodbyes again

look at me and stay with me

we're almost there we're almost home

Empty back fields to forward skies.

Could I have ever called you mine?

Staring forwards into empty space,

My mind is anything but.

Even months later I think of you.

It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything

And yet you still linger in my thoughts.

At my job, at my home, in my car,

No place is safe from you.

I'm not even mad, not really.

I want to know why you thought how you did.

How you could think I was obsessed?

I loved you like a friend!

I gave you space!

And yet-

And yet.

And yet, your ghost is the one obsessed with me.

I miss you.

TRUTH. What you need is imagination, and you don’t need to go anywhere to use it.

From the shoreline, you can hear the waves.

They rock, back and forth, a repeated rhythm.

They care not for the fish that linger underneath,

Nay they tarry not for the boats made of wood or metal.

The sun has no affect, for the sun they dare not pause

Oh! But the moon-!

The moon is the most beautiful thing in the water's eyes.

And the waves reach for the moon night after night, day after day.

But what does the moon care? Does it care for the waves in the creak? The river? The lake? The ocean? 

Does it admire how relentlessly the water reaches?

Does it notice how it is loved?

I can not say.

I am not the moon, bright, beautiful and wise. I am not the reflection of the suns light.

I am the wave upon the shore. The relentless driving force for ones I love. 

Do they love me back, you ask.

Does it matter? I answer.

They are the thing most precious to me. I will always chase them. Help them. Love them.

Swoosh-crash!