melind4

Poetic Interlude #13 October 23, 2009

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Poetic Interlude # 12 August 23, 2009

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Poetic Interlude #11 August 20, 2009

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garlic

scents the crisp air.

black beans, tortillas, and

spices. i ache to welcome the

full moon.

sigh. spew

my culture on

agar and see what grows.

perhaps a biological

sadness.

yellow

moon on twilight

breathes amaranthine clouds

there’s nothing more perfect than this

moment

the moon hazes yellow

with fuel familiar from my childhood.

the hills are burning again.

i can’t get far enough away;

the smoke drifts with the gentle breeze.

If only for a moment…

**gasp**
Was that real
Why did you have to go
I don’t know what to say
Except that I’ll never forget
The way you made me feel
Complete

do you still see me?

all i can do is

stand before you naked

awkward and passionless

the rest is up to you

my hand falls into yours as we walk unhurried, side by side

“don’t ever let go,” i whisper

you turn to me and smile

one breath astray

my heart warms and i know you will

always be there.

The comfort of beer, shots, and casual sex no longer exist in my reality. So I run to the fantasy of  lust, idealized love, to ease my discomfort. I’ll never pull myself up until I let it go. I need to find real strength in myself, but I always go to the fantasy first. The fantasy where everything will be ok. I thought I was letting it go, slowly, but it’s still very strong. How do I learn to let it go? Patience, again? *Sigh*

My heart has fallen, captivated, with the very idea of you.

The thought that you might exist in my reality

gives me hope, gives me strength, gives me courage

to be myself

and know I will always be good enough.

maybe i should stick to (fucking) prose, or (breathless)

i want a night without anxiety
to anticipate tomorrow
to welcome the day
when i am finally (fucking) alive.

pain tells me i’m here, familiar.
there must be a reason
(there fucking has to be).

i can’t (fucking) sleep
the razor is sharp
something will end.

my dreams run far and fast
i need to feel something –
anything but breathless.

to look into your eyes my soul would evanesce

i invent your kiss each night as i lie alone in remiss silence

to receive the morrow brings a smile

as my first wakeful breath is deep with the memory of yours