I remember all the times I forgot flowers
That time we tried to shower
Neither of us staying clean
I’ve let you go,
The smoke of that loss
Gone before I knew….
The thing I miss most is the
caramel,
knock-me-out,
apple pie you made.
That shit was almost worth
Your crap attitude and your shit ass friend
I wonder sometimes when that feeling kicks in, the one where you’re about to go over the falls, if that’s just some illusion that your mind is tricking you with. Walking you down a path well trodden. Guiding you to some ecstatic mirage where you’ve missed the true oasis by miles but, that’s okay you’re drinking sand right where you belong.
Recently, I’ve been wondering if I’ve fallen in love with myself all those times. I wonder if what I saw in those eyes was just a reflection of the love I gave so willingly. This isn’t me being sad but, I’ve said I love you so many times I’ve probably lost count. Penned poems of heart songs and heartbreak. I’ve been getting better at relationships. I just don’t always know if I’ve been giving my heart to the right people.
And as I stand on the precipice of something new I have to ask myself is this all real again or am I doing this to myself if nothing else was right for me how could this be it? Is this how it’s supposed to be? Do we fall for self-idealized versions of others only to decide to stay or go when the sheet gets removed and we see that person in the garish light of day? If all of that is true, when do we learn to see that person for who they are at the begining and maybe not so late in.
A vision that blots out the rarest pigment sunsets
Or mountain landscapes
Is there truly beauty in those things,
When apparitions of divinity walk along the Earth on two legs?
Does the moon but reflect the sun?
While their intellect out shines the rise of Helios.
There’s beauty in many found things
but perhaps in a muse that finds itself.
Can vibrant, Autumn leaves
or soft, downy snow
string words together that compel
writers desire to tear their hearts out in envy?
Will a zephyr or the avian song
bring chills with notes stagnate over millions of years
or the symphony composed
from a compassionate soul
who ne’er take life’s pleasures for granted.
Is it hubris to compare one
to both earthly and celestial wonders
maybe so
but I am ever so confident that I know the right of it.
For what could be held in such regard
But the vastness of beauty in a mortal vessel.
What is a stage but a pedestal
They belong to life
To freedom
An actor to the stage
And I just want to play the part that’s belongs to me
I want to surround them
To pull them into me and never let go.
That would satisfy only for a moment
A split second of selfish desire
It’d bring the whole thing down around me
Isolation and freedom in ruination
That I could have just one piece of them.
What would I do just to know.
Just to understand.
Just to know their name.
I still remember your “Hey”s and sighs
I recite your dreams
Sing your tears
Can’t forget your heartbeat
And cadence
But I only hear clippings of conversations
I remember my rage
My angst
Your sweet toxin
Our Warmth
Hours of my life swallowed up in perfect lips
Only loose thoughts reach out
I remember pain and loss
Moving forward
Death
Mass annihilation
Bounding betrayals
But I only have clippings of conversations
Our time blurred
I am not the same man
But I wonder would you love me
Would your kisses taste the same
Even with just clippings
I have more than you
I have given much thought to the idea that people who leave us, don’t always leave us. Maybe we think about them less; Or morn the people they’d become. But, we don’t forget the things they loved, the ideas they had. We even keep their saved games. So is was, right?
Like green was his favorite color or her smile was as bright as the sun. I want to choose is. I don’t know if that would still be true. If they were still alive maybe they’d be sick of the things they used to love. But, I want to say Green is his favorite color and He has a soft spot for monkey. She was first person to say she liked my hair long and she taught me so many things with a smile that was so filled with the joie de vivre.
All I’m saying is sometimes it feels better to say is instead of was and I’m giving you the power to choose. I’m not super spiritual myself but, think they things they showed us and taught us aren’t gone so maybe that means they aren’t either. I find comfort in being a web of expeirences touched by others. Our lives are passion projects and those people who touch our lives are the florishing sheet that goes over our grand design.
Live well, readers. Maybe meditate on this for a bit. Tell me about your choice: Is or Was and give me a like or check out some of the other things I’ve written.
Where do you put your work in
Where does your heart go
I just want to hear you say something
Maybe this is what I was missing before
I wanna hear more than I love you
more than I want you
Do you really know me
or just the parts I show you
please just see me
I’m right here in front of you
–
Summer Showers and Fall Downpours
Hurricanes, Tempests, and Late Night Rhythms
You Remind Me of the Rain.
–
Fresh Chilled Lips and Love Soaked Clothes
Unexpected with a Lightly Kissed Nose
You Remind Me of the Rain.
–
Show My World in a Brand New Light
Shuffling People Indoors, Under Coats and Covers
You Remind Me of the Rain
–
Tea in Hand and Windy Hips Swaying
Words Seeping Out A Wide Brim Smile and Babbling Giggles
You Remind Me of the Rain
–
Hands Over Head Cheering
Relief in a Deserted Dream Fearing
You Remind Me of the Rain
–
Bleak Repose and Warring Tumult
Tropical Storm Sinking, Inner Thoughts Streaking
You Remind Me of the Rain
–
In Your Many Forms
And Everything that Comes with Them
You Remind of the Rain.
–
When the act of loving is missing,
you can really feel it.
It’s sweet words and squishy feelings
Without thick walls and drawn curtains
Its sex without foreplay
Or pulling teeth to get the
one thing you thought you’d both like to do… done.
It’s loneliness
Giving more of yourself then you can stand
It’s “What do you want me to do?!”
Yelled out while someone just
wants to you to hold them
It’s not being able to share your day
Your month
Your year
Your life
It’s walking around on egg shells
because if you put into words
the things that are really wrong
you’ll break things
and that might break you.
It’s the threat of leaving
Hanging over and spoken out loud
Drilling into your insecurities
But you know what you need.
So leave
Go and get it.
The car waits at the intersection way too long
The rhythm of the blinker keeps tick tick ticking
I come to a stop on yellow
And drive just a little too slow
But, it’s all to make the drive go smoothe
Check the mirrors a bit more than is expressly necessary
Don’t honk when that red truck cuts me off
Terrified by the swerving semi
White knuckles on big black hands
But it’s all to make the drive go smoothe
Glancing at you out of the corner of my eye
While streetlights paint your sleeping face
Not even singing when my song comes on
Filling my heart as each mile passes
Whispered “I love you”s under my breath
But it’s all I can do to make the drive go smoothe smoothe.
Warren Dalton 
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