To live, To love, Another day

If there is a battle
I hope my head always defers to my heart
-T. Chapman

somebody else's heart 2

 

 

Some…things, so beautiful…one must look away.

Of these things,

the giddiness

and

jest…

set us apart.

Moments worth capturing…yet, set so

hush-ful,

you wonder about the state of your heart.

A corner curls just a trifle from the far reaches of her parted lips.

A nuance clutches your breathing.

Something that never was…

Something that did not always fit.

It is the kind of love that ruptures and raptures your heart…

Though it was not yours, you watch it, well lit.

Even if it is somebodies love you did not know.

It was someone’s else love to have and to hold.

She, Me, Her, WE

She…my favorite weakness

Me…her favorite mistake

Every wrong that could be said, brought her my way

Her imagination stretching from land to mountain to sea…to encompass me

Sardines and garlic embolden with…

forgotten history

Her passive, passionate affection, a lending hand to settle my turbulent needs

She is the matter for my life and my death

We pepper each other’s stories with bits of salt for human frailty.

the Queer and the Fine

river-4

These times are lean

for many.

Not for only the queer and fine.

Not for only those of disabled mind.

For all human and…unkind.

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Cannot help but feel a chill in the air.

Cannot help but wonder…

the depth of waters,

free flow.

The river’s edge no longer inviting.

Vacant tables seem

splintered.

Less confiding.

Brighter times misguiding.

The size of things and secret matters left to a court jester and mad hatter.

To fend distant thought,

I watch in admiration,

as my dogs frolic.

Their antics blissfully unaware of the impending need to panic.

river-7

 

Did Not Treat You Right

Didn’t treat you right.

I never did.

But then…

all my good intentions were short lived.

I had wished ’til the ends of the earth and back?

Perhaps, not.

Though, thru a break in the pane…

I would have riddled a charismatic plot.

There were…

zero second chances here.

No, to…

two ways

down

a one-way street.

Should have known better back in the day?

Vanity and clarity never find the same bed…

in which to lay.

Criminal Heart

There are these moments where I cease to exist.

Moments I dare not wish away.

Such like, a slight vulnerability we dare not display.

Though a lover may profess their love on any given day.

My crimes of the heart…

Dark and blistery.

And, lonely the roads I have chosen.

Chosen to stay within the refrain of the sane.

Triumphantly, no matter the luster…

Rear-view glances to all hereafters.

Are mine to define.

No fault moments…

Placed in the attic of my mind.