Swing

If you were here this afternoon…I am picturing us on the porch swing, entangled in each other’s arms and legs.  I read  poetry while you flip through your latest autobiography.  I drink coffee, while you steal sips from my cup, reluctant to get your own.  We are each lost in our own literature, yet wildly aware of each other’s presence, more so than we want to convey.  We let the gentle breeze sweep through the screens of the porch, rocking us gently.  I suddenly find myself with an insatiable urge to swing…the kind of swinging that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of swinging that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  I convince you to go on an adventure to find a swing with me.  We detangle, somewhat, putting down our books, while you finish off the last sips of coffee.  We parade into the house in order to find ourselves suitable swinging clothes.  Yet the entrapment of one another is more than we care to escape from at this moment.  So instead we make love.  The kind of love that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of love that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  You convince me to stay there and prolong my adventure of the swing.  I do not need convincing.

If you were here this afternoon…I would want you to see the freedom I have acquired, the contentment I now possess, the strength I am so clearly aware of.  But just like a cloud passing over the sun on a summer day, I am quickly reminded of how different things are.  You are not here on this afternoon with me.  In reality, would you have even allowed yourself to web into mine on a porch swing?  You have left me.  You have left me.  You have left me with an awareness.  An awareness that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of awareness that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  An awareness that gives me the clarity to see those things so sheltered by your presence.  You were my storm cloud.  My life without you is now a beautiful summer day. 

So I sit on my porch alone, reading poetry, thankful that I still have the opportunity to find someone to entangle with, but more than anything, thankful that I have found my own rhythm on this porch swing. 

Indifference

How easily you can wipe me from your memory

Found my heart in the tragedy 

Lost my head in that big small city 

But I got it back in sweet Tennessee 

I pity you for your shallow capacity 

But I thank you for this priceless 

Opportunity 

It's like the falling of a dense red leaf, though suddenly 

Yet still a softness of subtlety 

It does not need an entrance 

Overlooked with just a glance 

Like the ripple of an ocean wave

The love you never contained or gave 

A flower petal blooming 

A billowing cloud looming 

The setting of the sun

The moon rising not to be outdone

Sweeter than the sincerity of a lovers kiss

The assurance of being greatly missed 

The romance in holding a hand 

The pleasure of calling you my man

The hope that exists in a smile 

The risks that are worthwhile 

The part of the day where the heat disappears 

And the moon starts to romance the stars drawing near

The hinting of titillating pleasures to come

The destination of love as it hums 

When the peace and the splendor 

Join hands with the serenity in the surrender.

27 Years Old

Do you sleep at night when your head lays down? 

Do your thoughts wander and in them your serenity drowns?

Do you shut your eyes and try so hard not to see,

But all your visions are of us, of you and of me? 

Or do you drift to sleep with no regret at all? 

Was I just a name to add to your ever-growing wall?

Does your heart truly love someone else, 

And I was just a stand in, a mere body in a shell?

I tell myself you are lonesome in your pride. 

My door will knock, and there you will be longing to be by my side.

However your actions speak the loudest of them all, 

The knock never comes, but the pride does come before the fall.

I tell myself move on, forget, 

But my heart won't let go of its death tight grip.

The familiarity of this feeling comes creeping in, 

I'm always the fool and the one left wondering. 

I seal the door and shut it tight.

I must keep you out with all my might.

I must keep you out with all my might.

I must keep you out.

I must keep you out.

I must.

26 Years Old

There’s a sense of longing for the might have been,

A memory of what was back then.

I think my memory has served me well,

Yet is leaving out where there is more to tell.

I cannot overlook the here and now,

Through idle thoughts of someway somehow.

Where I am is heaven sent!

I don’t want to miss this precious present tense.

I am so beautiful inside my learning,

Why do I have this sense of wasteful yearning?

My fret is on the skin and bones,

Yet what of those internal milestones?

The ones I made while pushing through,

The ones I earned because of you.

The collarbones kept so high,

But on my own I let them lie.

Enjoy who I am right now.

Never letting my eyes fix their frown.

For when I think of what might have been,

I am reminded of who I was back then.

I child of a hopeful grace,

Yet, now a woman with a deeper embrace.

25 yr Old

17.a

If you had my coordinates,

Would you show up at my door?

Would you long to see me smiling 

As we lay upon the floor?

As we make up for lost time

Because our pride had been too strong,

And neither of us could admit 

That we had both been proven wrong.

You say you are relieved that I know not where you are,

Thus I would be the one to fight for us regardless of how far.

But in the end, one eager of two does not a relationship make.

I keep wanting to give,

But you no longer want to take.

You belong to someone else,

Who is simple, who is plain.

Is it easier to be with her because she does not mirror how much you have to gain?

I must release the grip I have held onto with so tight.

For there is nothing left to hold, even though I try with all my might.

And all the good I painted on you with all my hopeful fear,

Was nothing more than fleeting colors in the midnight drear.

For in the end if the colors fade and all we have is love,

How are you to stand the change if you never rise above?

Your sun did never stretch, nor reach, to claim the sky.

You were too small, too weak, too blind to even ask the reasons why.

You stayed in your contentment,

Your ease and your regret,

Too cowardly to see my longing face, tearfully stained and wet.

Yet, I wish to see your face to hold your hand and smile.

My mind knows there's nothing for me, but it will take my heart awhile.

Awhile for the realization to finally set itself in, 

That you have given up and I was the only one that gave in,

That you will not fight, nor reach for me once more,

And I will never, ever see you standing, smiling, reaching for my door.