shades of memory/recollection of you

there are

many

versions

of

you.

i miss them

fleetingly

at times—

stain-glass

colors

of nostalgia

cast

deeply

through

me.

pale blue

&

cautious;

kiss me

first,

slow

as autumn

turns.

rich red

&

passionate;

brazen

summer

dances,

dusk-cloaked

nights.

murky brown

&

guilty regret.

dark green

&

sweet;

smells brisk

as winter wind,

requires me

to know

of

more,

say

good-bye

to future.

sharp yellow

&

lust.

dark navy

&

loss,

prickling

heavy with

deep

poignancy.

my window

shifts,

the colors

have not

yet

finished

coming.

i open

my arms,

beg them

tread

softly—

glass windows

break easy.

towards/forwards/now

Burst

into

brilliant
scarlet

trumpeting madly,

sharp spices

intoxicatingly

heady

in blood-stream—

fully,

wholly,

wonderfully,

deliciously--

alive!

Swirl!

Dip

into

yourself!

Tilt

through

light

easily

as

quickening

shadow.

Pulsation

of desire

and wonder

stir dark

purple

into the

buzzing

air,

thump through

thick as

warm honey--

sticks to

your brain

thoughts

before

glimmering

amber

into

deep dusk.

My feet

carry me

here

boldly,

(laugh

for

the future!)

kick up

confetti

into

silver
hopes,

golden
dreams.

to be ever well

I am

made of

too much

at times.

Tears

prickle

my eyes

when

love

comes

swiftly,

swelling

heavy & sweet

as molasses

in my

throat,

reminding me:

you are not

(have not—

will not)

ever be

alone.

So much

grateful,

I may

just

burst—

split

into

thousands

of yellow

petals,

rain on

the

beautiful

heads

of those

below me.

Red

fire-shadows

dance

warm

on

the walls

of my

soul,

smell

like:

musky

cedar

soap,

her

floral

perfume,

soggy

wet

dog.

Forgiveness

here;

sharp

&

sweet as

red cinnamon candy

biting

at my tongue.

Let the broken

mend,

heal it

well,

fill it

graciously,

trickle

forth

in

heart-giving

love.

the summary of soul

Why does it

taste

so much

bitter?

The last drops

of

black coffee

bead

on the side

of my lips,

emptiness

cakes my

stomach,

there is

much

aloneness

here.

To smile

at the

chalky

sky

stirs deep

hurt,

paints

pale heart

with

echoes of

regret,

smooth:

a

cello

over

broken

yellow

glass.

A part of

you

no longer

exists—

it crackles

into the

distance,

bitter pink

on the 

horizon .

 

Careful

what you give

away.

Goose pimples

on skin

when

laughter escapes—

let it.

It is time

to heal.

Piano solo

interlude

while watching

strangers

smile;

absolute

distance

washes

over

you—

terrifying—

freeing—

stone steps

lead

downwards

and away.

reconciliation of senses

She tells me:

use your senses

more.

So I concentrate,

pull in

bits

of

murky-water

world,

rub it

beneath

my

fingers

like

small

glass marble

made

from

cold

bleached

cloud.

Tastes dense

like

home-made

bread

and apple butter,

sour and empty as

thirst,

rich and full

like

marina sauce,

angel hair,

safety

of being.

Sounds like

laughter

fashioned from

strength

and pain,

soothing

rhythm of

friendship

whispers,

fire-place

crackles

of acceptance

and warmth.

Hurts like

sewing a

wound shut,

and

also

like not being

enough.

Looks like

pale fingers

in candle-light,

reckoning

with world,

coming to terms

with

distant

humanity.

Feels like

drowsy warmth

wrapping

blankets

of sincerity

around my

shoulders,

prickles

of fir trees,

aches of

feverish want,

pillowing sleep,

longings

for wholeness,

emptiness poured out,

filled

with reconnection

to soul

and

to self.

These senses

are too human,

they run

discordant

to life,

I cannot

reconcile

them

to the

naked

tree branches

that silhouette

into the

empty

sky.

it can be all good from now on

This is ok,

you know?

It’s sweeter

between

my teeth

than I

thought

it’d taste—

like

salted caramel

&

clementines.

When I

cried,

the tears

didn’t crystalize

like they should have—

instead,

seared

my soul

hot

with

wonder,

fresh

and new.

Not to say:

this was

easy.

No, no—

not to say

in the least.

But rich?

Deep?

Sure.

Dripping into

my head

like hot

red wax--

this idea:

all is well.

With you,

the world is a

sharper 

kind of blue.

My senses

dulled

with warm 

contentment,

I allow

myself

to entertain

this idea

of both

uncertainty

&

wholeness.

I like your soul

enough;

let’s go from there.

somewhere, we took a wrong turn

A recipe 

for 

dissapointment. 

First,

allow oneself

a sense of utter

vulnerability.

Trust

him

enough

you give

him

a

piece

of your

soul,

slivered off,

shining

bright and holy and kind

on presented platter—

wait, anticipate, will him—

take it!

For god’s sake,

take it!

Cloud-like:

seemingly unmoving

but

take your eyes off them—

traveled half-way

‘cross the sky.

Here’s

my soul offering--

keep it

safe,

whole.

Please?

It’s dripping

out of my

hands;

I’m not sure

I can hold

this

much longer.

Did I

read words

printed

on your lips

wrong?

Or,

like clouds,

change

mid-way

into something

I couldn’t have

anticipated.

I hate this

too much.

Dry up,

thoughts,

haunt me no more—

rose petal desires

turned

dusty memories

in winter sun,

regrets soon

blown

to ash.

Utter

disappointment

bites your bones,

lurch forward,

stumble into

blind

frustration.

Romantic endeavors

should be left

to those

whole

of heart.