The ringing of my ears quiets with the memory of your taste. The tears seem to retreat at the thought of your eyes, your smile, your face. And the will of dotted lines following our path to meet at a border between us, both figuratively and literally, is how I have expended my hope. Bread crumbs of longing on a path I will choose not to follow back. Abandoning the end of my rope. Left there like constellations of my desire for you once more. My desire that you are behind every door that I open these days. Every turn of the confusion of this maze. Your words whispered, over and over, in my ears as a strength I need to face the years that I may or may not get to be in love with you.

I love you, you know?

As true as anything above or below. Your smell remains on my bed. Growing faint, but there. The smell of your sex on my sheets. Asking me do I dare? Do I dare?

And I do.

For I know, for sure, that I belong to you. Through and through. And the confusion lies in the longing of my soul, trying to decipher the feeling of your absence, so new. But I remain true. To my labors and love. My hope that things will rise above the way they are to a new hope of what we can be. And the start of it is you without me. My hand lingering on the corner every new page. Turning each one at the start of every new day. Ready to be on my way. To start a new chapter. To read the parts again and again that describe your laughter. Those times we shared when my bed was a safe place for you. I wanted to walk with you. Now I must settle for beside you. When in truth. My waking hours I long to be with you. My sleeping hours, inside you. I can recreate my fury. I can recreate my pace. I need only to hear that you love me. As the starting gun of this race. Let'’s figure it out. Your mind is so sharp. It can always find a solution. My mind is my heart that always manages to draw the wrong conclusion. Your skin was like fire on the coldest of nights. My hand melting into it as if made of ice. I wait to be branded again. Pressing my body to yours. Seeing the wetness traced between us as we create a temple behind close doors. Hand fulls of hair. Breathing ragged gulps of air as we moved towards sleep in each others embrace. Admiring that lingering smile on your face. And these moments all leading to a powerful realization of your trust. Your rest. The story of our love was one ending I couldn'’t have guessed. But we are far from the end. The story is just a twist in the conclusion of me and you. And no one know for sure what to do. We just think back to our favorite lines of it.

"“At any given time either one of us is doing the best we can."

And yes. We can. Should you choose it. Let'’s touch the side of every piece of the puzzle and match them face down. Revealing the picture to our own surprise when it is finished and turned around. Neither knowing what it might be; only knowing it was begun and finished by just you and me. Our hands. Our time. Our way. As we write a new chapter at the start of this day. So, Love? Can I put your name next to mine at the top of the page?

¶ 11:16 PM 0 comments

I would give anything to change five minutes of one morning in July. I would give anything to have been the one that you made cry instead of the other way around. I would give anything to be border bound on a long drive back to the life I picked for myself over the course of the best year of my life. I would do anything. Anything at all. But my words have failed me. As they have failed you. Every conversation makes me feel like a fraud. I can’t seem to find a single word that is true in the many conversations I’ve had hiding the tears behind the buttons on my cell phone from you. I am sprawled out now. Sacraficed to my own ideas about what love is and what it should have been. Redefining the definition of “lie” to sound more like the definition of “End”. I would have dipped my sharpened bones into my fermented blood and scrawled love poems on the stretched hide of my skin if it would bring you back. But my words have failed me. My pen to. Just as much as my loving completely is the way that this love failed you. So be it.

I am a love poet.

That is all.

So.

I guess I am no longer a poet at all.

Just be careful next time. Try not to leave anyone else broken in your wake. Crying the kind of tears that no one is able to fake. Hmm. I wish my last words to you had been different. That would have been easier to take. But the truth is the truth. And I thought you should know.You don’t play a guitar when you want to learn the piano.

So, the rest of this game is chalked up to a loss. I see in grey now. Things are not so bright. I have a greater affinity for smokes in the dark than I do for a smile in the light. Love is a sham. It is a sucker bet. A fake. A waste. I am running out of hope these days and clinging on to faith. And I turn to him and ask with all the wind left in my sails, why the greatest inaccuracy of his words had to be, “Love never fails.”

So, in one powerful explosion I will reclaim everything I gave to you.

The promises, the future, the love, and my words.

By force if I have to.

You see. I was on the verge of surrender. My ink to run dry resolving myself to poetry being a lie. Because they couldn’t move you back to me. But that is my fault. My own brand of idiocy.

A new direction lies in my ink now. A new kind of word.

If my words can no longer make you love. Then perhaps they can hurt you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you for taking my words, my eyes, my hands, my breath…

And wanting my time too.

¶ 5:04 PM 1 comments