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.

Forgotten Pleasure

Between everything purposeful

Between the wishes for rain

Lies…a stockpile of liquid pain

Twisted ties of what remains

Blatant

transgressions

Sunken battles

Forgotten possessions

Careless love, who knew

Careless love…

It was never up to you

Careless love….

There is only so much you can do

Imagine a world vacant of stormy weather

Imagine…

had not two worlds met.

For not one of us…

is truly desperate

To wish away the ache

Clamor for forever fair weather

Would only tarry for lovers had known before

Tis, far better to have loved…carelessly

Than to have stood naked, heart in hand…

at a closed door

                                       

Nothing More to Miss

There are moments I cannot touch…out of fear from being.

Dark, gloved hands, reaching out in leather and lace, pulling me from the sanguine times.

Floors that drop without provocation.

Shifting forest that call loud and severe.

And, yet I find, there is no voice.

Puppets and clowns amassed in bad intent.

This are the times that love and loss have lent.

I miss you when there is nothing more to miss.

I fall in love with you, each illness, each sorrow, again and again.

In the seconds that backtrack from past to present and present to future.

You are what love to be.

You are my friend.

Someone’s Someone

You were someone’s-someone, once.
Such as, those many wanting more than just enough.
A young wife given to the vow of love.
Had you not been tangled up in someone else’s blues?
Would I have known you,
the way in which I have imagined you?