A Bleeding Heart

It’s getting late and we’re dying to find out
what’s fated us here tonight.

You dare to ask what I’ve done, where I’ve been,
I’ll tell you more than you’d want to know
so let’s start this off slow.

The truth can be a dangerous thing;
you can’t unhear it once the stories have cleared.

I’ve held the hammer to a bludgeoned heart,
been the reason love and light broke apart.

I’ve danced across graves at night,
celebrated the taste of freedom that was mine.

I’ve destroyed many with a single look
then let go of ’em before they could sink their hooks.

I’ve lived through it all with eyes glued to the sky,
as a witness without remorse, only living on the outside.

With a heart paralyzed and surrounded by flames,
I curated multiple tragedies as cupid’s arrow took aim.

With hearts discarded,
I’ve since repented and paid the price
of these words and actions of a former life.

My dear, on this night with you I promise-
my pounding heart is now yours. If you’ll take it,
please don’t open the glovebox where there lies a knife.

Take Two and Call Me In The Morning

original photo credit: Shutterstock

I wake to the sound of him
pinging my phone.
It’s too early for
bright-eyed longing stares
to the love of my life
as my eyes burn from
the phone’s bright light.

With eyes barely opened,
I reach over to tell him
“Good morning, my love.”
He sends his love in return
and I feel his love beating
through my chest from across the pond.

How his smile awakens every
nerve in my body, how it eases
every ache that arises as my body
shifts. If I lie here long enough
to soak in his beaming smile it’ll
surely eradicate the piercing forming
through every extremity.

Tender love is our medicine,
taken in various doses throughout
the day to coast along a high plateau.
And in this moment, our morning routine
of enchanting greetings and air kisses,
it’s exactly what we need.

The Houses Are Empty and We Cannot Be Saved

photo credit: Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

indulging upon a landscape
you longed to sink yourself into,

eyes scanned every inch where your
fingertips dutifully awaited to graze.

words escaped the space between us
as the air filled with sighs.

“I could write a thousand poems…”
you said as the sun came out from hiding.

and I realized how hollow the room felt
as the sun was the only one providing warmth from its rising.

we could both write a thousand poems
to sway other hearts

and yet we knew we couldn’t be
any more than this.

Navigating the Breakers

A sting reaches our eyes as we collect
salt and mist from the unchartered sea
knowing where we’ve been,
knowing where it will lead.

Glimpses of our future
pepper through the days of our past
on that boat sailing against the breeze,
wondering which of our days will last.

Mirroring smiles reflect
how we take on the world:
you take the wheel
while I navigate the sails furled.

Wherever the wheel guides us
on this grand adventure,
with our hands holding each other tight
we’re bound on this journey together.

Summer Love Swept Away

Photo by Hernan Pauccara on Pexels.com

I spotted you amongst the masses there
with only a moment to choose, I feared
this was headed nowhere.

Giving you a raised eye
I slipped you a napkin with my number,
figured this was a love you couldn’t deny.

We filled our summer days gone by
with dragonfly dreams. Our love
left like beach vacationers and passersby.

Heading back to where they’ve come
but deep in the night, they’ll remember
what those summer loves have done.

In this jaded seaside town
after the blazing sun has gone down
nothing remains but tumultuous sea sounds.

Like a discarded napkin
left by a shattered dish,
this love was swept away with the rubbish.

Let the Music Play

we were an unsinkable ship,
built to sustain any injury
thrown our way, or so we said.

cast into the dark,
yet illuminated with infinite possibilities.

suddenly slipping through our fingers
the bitter cold quickly rushed in,
and the music played on.

while the chaos surrounded us
and the children were tucked safely in their bed,
the music played on.

while prayers were whispered,
and crowds huddled around,
the music played on.

while the water was rising,
we clasped our hands together for the last time,
and the music played on.

while last kisses were shared
and arms embraced wiping away tears,
the music played on.

while eyes sought the humanity
and love within each other’s eyes,
the music played on.

while indecisions and indifference captured us to a halt,
the music played on.

it was the only thing that could caress us
as we fell further into the deep, dark cold waters.

and the music played on
for each and every one of them

until they could hear it no more.

I was meant to love you

I remember you in the morning,

the way the light hit your eyes,

the way your smile matched mine,

the way your fingers grazed over my peaks and valleys,

the way you wandered over my warm skin, inhaling its intoxicating scent.

And I remember the feeling that it was a perfect dream,

one that we never wanted to end

but it slipped away too soon.

And now every time I start to rise in excitement

I anticipate the impending heartache that follows.

Do I dare to fall, do I dare to rise, do I …

I do, and so we continue, for the rest of our lives.

the other morning

Lying in bed after a night’s sleep, I peek

at the clock to confirm the hour before

the sun comes up. It’s too early to stir

the house awake, too early to reach for the phone,

for those good morning kisses. It’s

the only thing I want to wake up to, seeing you

across from me, telling me you love me.

Forcing myself back to sleep, I float in and out

of a dream, too eager to get too deep.

It’s one of those days, like every other one,

where you are so far away and I need your face

in front of me. I need your kisses all over me.

I need your smile, your body wrapped around me.

Yet, here we are,

with one more night ending,

to one more morning

in another light.

The Secret Garden

bore from the most arduous labor,
its intoxicating fruit,
its sweet blossoming fragrance,
pulls in the strongest of hearts.
as a vine
snakes its way through the depths
of a luscious secret garden,
distinct impressions
produce
the richest aromas.
even to an untrained eye,
the sweetest honey couldn’t go unnoticed.

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

the sweetest honey couldn’t go unnoticed;
even to an untrained eye,
the richest aromas
produce
distinct impressions.
a luscious secret garden
snakes its way through the depths
as a vine
pulls in the strongest of hearts.
its sweet blossoming fragrance,
its intoxicating fruit
bore from the most arduous labor.

The Gentle Birdsong Calling of Spring

it’s right underneath,
brewing under my chest
this quiet whisper circling-
not spiraling downwards as
i often tend to, but in the way a
gentle breeze swirls a handful
of leaves and they flutter away.
there’s an inquisitive nature
to it where there is somehow a
sense of magic at hand, and yet
somehow there must be a reason
to it all. a scientific process that
always begets the same results after
following a specific pattern of events.
the snow will always melt with the touch
of warm air. the birdsong will always
bring a sense of relief for the return of
Spring. and the lovebirds will rejoice
after surviving the long Winter, nuzzling up
to the love that kept them warm.