The only joys are those we seize for ourselves
Those bare moments where you describe your day to a person you love
That dream that haunts you
Of walking in a arboreal garden
And seeing your person’s face light up with your
Mere
Presence
A minute for yourself
Alone in the ache of love
And distance
The first perfect bite which explodes so flavorful and tempting
The words unspoken
The ones that pierce
A desperate frissioned ragged edge
Tears unshed
And a song that makes you dance
Life spinning and time fleeing
Too many obligations
Not enough you
ache
Bent willow by the rushing water
Days spent in the quiet ache of waiting
Pressed lip consonants and soft wet vowels
Dull repetition needed to bring us together
The possible made real by the simple choice
Again and again
Of you
The days ticking by which promise some future yes
Lost in the drift
Of seconds ripping
On razor wings
Each moment an agonize
In which the only balm is the thought of you
Though through the haze of fogged up desire
Still
Quietly I bleed
Patters against the tile
Curling steam in a chill air
How dangerous the need
To have you by my side
I feel myself rushing to you
And wish
I could see you
Rushing to me
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Reckless healer
I miss romantic love as much as I miss that blissful period when I loved only myself.
A brief time after forgiveness of things beyond my control leading up to the swooping vultures of this guy’s interesting to play with.
Or in thinking that my heart is genuinely filled and cutting it open like a pomegranate to drip seeds down hungry throats.
The pain a substitute for reciprocity
Until, woken I ask for clarification
And
In so doing
Find myself to have been alone
Or instead with pale spectre as companion
Try to shove a heart dripping juice
Never quite full again
Into a chest grown to small
Instead hold in hands
Hoping to find sharing
Or,
At last
For inflammation to cool
The swelling goes down
And fits back in chest
Or to lament that fact
Can’t make you want
More than this distance
To be admired
And loved from
Space removed
So much easier to go quiet
To fade
When I no longer see you
And the blade no longer sinks home with each smile aimed away
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What’s in a name
Victoria? I keep hearing that name in my dreams. Usually names don’t stick but Victoria does. And it’s always the same. She is always a lover. And always someone I love. She is demanding and a bit dominant but not my master. We meet clandestinely. She will come by, drop hints to when she will be available and I will go to her. We are passion itself. She is only available for small windows of time, but I know I am her island of normal in a chaotic life. This dream is always set inside another dreamscape. As if even there she is hiding. And each time I wake, my heart literally hurts. Like being ripped away from her by waking is so traumatic that I physically get hurt.
Pelgris 