If there is a battle
I hope my head always defers to my heart
Some…things, so beautiful…one must look away.
Of these things,
set us apart.
Moments worth capturing…yet, set so
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…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…
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.
Between everything purposeful
Between the wishes for rain
Lies…a stockpile of liquid pain
Twisted ties of what remains
Careless love, who knew
It was never up to you
There is only so much you can do
Imagine a world vacant of stormy weather
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
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.
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?