The production commenced
with actors on stage
portraying the love we once had-
the grasp of her cheek,
the look in her eyes,
as he folded over himself
to make her swoon his way.
Amongst an empty crowd,
the curtain’s now drawn,
the actors have gone home,
the final act is done,
it’s time to get on.
Hanging on for an encore,
hoping for another show,
relishing in the memories
and never letting go,
I can still feel that soft cheek,
feel those eyes resting upon me,
and those chains not letting me free.
The show’s over
but it plays on
relentlessly in the forefront
of this lover’s mind.
Dear love, Thoughts of you the other day brought smiles. Today thoughts of you produced overrun swells in my eyes. The many years we’ve been separated, but how our hearts have always been close, how many more years will it be like this? Living in fantasy and memories all of the time is no way of living. The truth of what can never be, will I ever set these feelings free? This arrested state of bliss, of dreaming of our next kiss… and the pain of knowing that it may be a million years away. We’re so close yet always out of reach. I sit and dream of you, and wonder… will our dreams ever come true.
Images and words suddenly appear, words longed for hitting deep as they wrap around and envelop me, overwhelming yet satisfying.
Since our last meeting your ghostly presence arrived in the oddest of places: romantic restaurants, quaint cafes, art galleries, long car drives, concert halls, walking in a park, every room of the house, and late at night in bed.
Days leading up to significant life events, it was you always there intervening and me not finding the right words to express the emptiness, the loss, the longing, the wanting.
Reunions are great, they say, as long as you don’t have to deal with the past, as long as it doesn’t control your present, as long as the flame doesn’t consume you.
Yet, here I stand steadily in the burning flames with you.
My grandfather, he ordered black coffee, a soup and salad before his meal, steak and potatoes, and always leaving room for dessert at buffets on the other side of town
A routine meal to this day is remembered as my favorite meals with him
My Dad loved on his Alaskan crab legs with a side of melted butter While Mom ordered chicken at a seafood restaurant She never offered to pay while Auntie told us, ‘Don’t take it for granted, she should say ‘Thanks’’
A routine meal that to this day is remembered as our family meals together
The holidays would arrive suddenly, every holiday, as our family rushed off to Sunday service.
Was this excursion a last minute decision? Is the calendar right? Always arriving late, we discreetly sneaked into the pews. With a family of five, surely no one would notice. But they did, they always notice.
A routine holiday that would years later be remembered as our holidays together
Every year, every holiday, every birthday, the same restaurants, the same routine, the same church service.
But at least we gathered in the familiar ways we knew what was to come. We could count on those moments, those familiar moments.
Now we look back without the chance to relive all those memories, without the words of togetherness without bickering without reconciling No more chasing each other around the yard No more climbing up the tree, my favorite tree All that is left are these memories While isolating from our high-strung family
Now we pass the memories on while making new ones; new choices of restaurants, holidays, vacations and promises of not being late (but who are we kidding, we’re always late)
And yet, some things will remain I’ll keep the same dessert in honor of my grandparents whose struggles and sacrifices for our family deserve to be rewarded with a slice of warm apple pie
Two lone souls
thinking they stand out in the crowd
do they really
or are they the same as everyone
They feel special, profound as no one must feel the same but they do, they all want to be loved they all are searching for the one
Yet there isn’t one
there are quite a few
as they slowly come in and out of view
this one knows how to paint
and captures you from the start
and this one knows how to play guitar
straight from the heart
and this one plays piano from the soul
and this one writes poems,
his words have been your ultimate goal
But this one standing beside you all these years Is he special, unique, profound Well, he’s still around And that’s something…