Bespoken

These hands take easily to yours, sweet emptiness rendered warm to mutual touch. Ready and willing, I look into your nightly depths to see little but reflections from dim illumination, intent clear as morning mist. Come, you beckon ernestly, come to me and away we’ll go, into the night and far from this madness. Stay, I say, stay here in the chaos with me, where I’m wanted and remembered, not out into the unknown. You beckon until your mortal limits can plead no more, and then you retreat. Ever the face of elegant and inconspicuous desire, you give yourself away in haste. Would that I were as foolish as I dreamed to be, I would’ve whisked away with you and discovered the grounds of my darkness. An ideal for an hour, you retreat back to your corner like the stranger you were.

Graceless

I wonder stupidly if you’d still love me after my run around the world and back to you, at the end of the line. If because of my innate selfishness I shied away from sharing myself with you, I backed out and away to work on other things and realized that I liked being alone, that despite my capacity to love, I have a greater capacity to suffer. That no matter how many times you show up I want to give you the universe and yet show nothing for it because I’m the end result of subtle mistreatment, of pervasive dysfunction. I’ve resided there long, I’ve seen the world to know what the reality is and here I am preserving my sanity. You’re the casualty. I don’t want to give you the universe because I want it for myself. I wonder how you could love these heavy bones when there is so much suffering in the world. How could you concentrate on us when there are others. All this noise and nothing but the pain of distance and withdrawal, of slow heartbreak. I wonder of the ease of waiting for the plane to bring me up into the clouds and over the grid and back to this soothing and dark pool of illusion, of my continuing delusion. Somewhere in the distance, you’re waiting for me but if I look back, I’m lost.

Discomfort

These familiar faces surround me, they have returned from places far away, come back home for this festive stretch of time, to half celebrate the end of one year and the start of a new one, the closing of strange chapters, they tell me things I have no desire to heed, they remind me of the role I fulfill in their dark souls, they have made me feel more alone than ever, here at the end of the year.

I think of the water washing up at level with the bank in the cold evenings as I stare at the twinkling lights across the river. My stomach rumbles as I think of the fulfilling prospect of hot food. I am happiest when I follow my friends back toward the restaurant.

I hope to begin anew again soon.

Carnival


My eyes are dark and my lips are rosy. Through the hallway, down the winding stairs, out the cloisterious triple-entrance, and onto the corner of the street. Down the block, past the brick apartments and straight to the station ahead. A stop for coffee somewhere crowded, people entering and exiting, me passing through in the same fashion. Down the neverending street with its tall yellow lights illuminating the twinkling lights and passing barges down below, along the river. The wind pushes me along as I cross the bridge to the other side. The sky is periwinkle and carnation as twilight descends. Books, I see tables filled with books upon books upon books. I exhale puffs of brisk evening air as I look through a box of science fiction titles. I leave the books and walk up the bank, to that familiar spot. There you are, bundled up, waiting for me.

Lines

Been a while, all in good purpose. Life has rolled by like the poetry of a wintery morning, filled with emotion and aroma and confusion. A table decorated with pretty eats as bodies gather around it, we say our thanks and continue the occasion. You come halfway across the world to roam streets I know like the back of my hand and I insist on a few things because it’s in my nature to insist despite trying not to. So you indulge and I bring you into my nights and you see where I come from. You see all the significant faces of my days. I see the way you look at them before you look at me, thoughts swirling in your gray eyes as you tell me nothing of what’s in your head. I come to where you are, to that gloomy and lovely place you reside in. You look at me the same way, on this side of the world where no one’s looking. Except everyone’s looking and it’s you and me. You smile as if you have nothing to feel but your eyes betray you every time I look your way. As the night wears on you get more comfortable, your curtains draw back and you’re free again. You tell me things you’ve buried a layer down and as your lips move I see who you are. I’m so pleased you’re indulging even if you’re still guarded. A little goes a long way. I willingly meet you further than the halfway point as it’s how I love, in wholes and not halves. But you’re still wounded and won’t completely lend over. I want to bottle up this love and send it out to sea. Who knows where we are tomorrow. Time is fleeting, my days are precious. I’m gone tomorrow, back to my coast, a world away from you. Your eyes look at me like I’m wild and captivating. I haven’t been looked at that way before. Come with me, I beckon silently.