Melancholia

(Written November 24, 2011, 3:32 am.)

Two drinks too short, two breaths too long.
Broken links in a chain of thought.
Found in the words of a long lost song.
Dropped by the reality once precariously caught.

The distance between fleeting smiles.
The pause of the punctuating frown.
All the inches that feel like miles.
All the ups converging to the ultimate down.

The eyelid heavy with culpable times.
One last ill-advised sip.
Tensing in memories of unforgivable crimes.
Relaxing in Melancholia's forgiving grip.

Silhouette

(Written November 22, 2011, at 1:50 am.)

Your silhouette against the rising sun. The day has new meaning.

The night that has ended is forgotten in the past. The thought of your perfect body in a forgiven morning is a gift.

You may not see me, but I am the eyes that search for traces of you in the blowing wind.
You may not hear me, but I am the ears that hear all your languages.
You may not touch me, but I am the skin that is alive with the imagination of yours.
You may not know I exist, but I do. And I am revived to this world with your silhouette against the rising sun.

Bad Day

(Written October 4, 2011, 1:55 pm.)

I want to walk across the warzone
Separating your life and mine.
I'll face the bullets of distant memories
And walk over mines in the spots where we once stood together.
I want to walk into the enemy territory
Of your life
So I can let you back into mine.
I want to come unarmed
Because I'm having a bad day
And I want to be with you.

Patterns

(Written September 23, 2011, 3:17 am.)

The patterns of shadow on my ceiling conceal some hidden truth.

The day will come and wash it away.
The light will consume it, illegible, untraceable.

Then night will come again, with slightly different patterns.
And I will wonder if the truth has changed just a little.
Or if the Earth is just at a slightly different angle with the Sun, and the truth is just the same.

If I am the shadow that keeps shifting, and you are the truth concealed in me.

Moments

(Written September 23, 2011, 2:45 am.)

Do moments fade into the pores of skin?
Are all of ours in your bones?
Do they creak uncomfortably as you move?
Do they sit silent and heavy as stones?

Do moments get sucked in with every breath?
Are yours and mine in your chest?
Do they ache with every in and out?
Do they cause unexplained unrest?

Are moments of us hiding in you?
Are they tethered to your insides, oh -
Because I am left wondering,
Where exactly did the moments go?

Puzzle

(Written September 23, 2011, 2:40 am.)

Dice my body into thoughts I seek.
Rearrange them in the puzzle of your mind.
Show me the picture you see.

Untitled

(Written September 23, 2011, 2:30 am.)

Brush me with a stroke of your finger
And scatter me in the passing air.
Break my skin and drain me out,
Rain my pieces on some part of you.

Lie your lesser love down somewhere
And bid it your unfondest goodbye.
Spread me in a circle around you
On a cracked earth,
And watch me rise and fall
With the gravity of your lips.

Grip my merest substance.
Let it drop.
Feel its steady breath falter.

Feed me your bitterest truth
And watch me swallow.