I hereby dedicate this post to poems of mine about love: lost, found, good, and bad.
So get your lighters out and wave your hands at the sky, y'all, 'cause you know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Awwwww, yeah.
Wine on a Lampshade
There was obviously too much,
Which was how that haphazard splash
Came to exist on the yellowing shade.
A crimson age spot on a trembling hand.
In a frenzy it escaped the lip
Of the wine glass
As hers parted in a gasp.
But there was nothing to be done.
It is forever a reminder
That carelessness in the heat of passion
Always leaves its mark.
A Summer Affair
The heat is a blindfold over morality
With delirious sweat dripping fast.
This clandestine affair can only endure
During these primal days
Of thick, hot breaths and fevered stares,
Until the crisp of fall shocks us back to the world
Until then we dance
And sigh into the night air
That sticks to our skin like a disguise.
It's too hot to speak of it
So we put our mouths to better use.
It is a raw beauty
To taste the salty truth about ourselves
As we wake in a frenzy that cannot be contained.
Drink of it
Breathe it in
Climb to the edge and look down
Lest we forget
How far we can fall.
"So What are you doing with yourself these days?"
I blink twice
And try to convince myself I'm not actually sitting across from him
"No. Seriously. I thought about you the other day."
I feel silently violated.
"You look good. Thinner."
As opposed to...
"You know, I think you may have a wine glass or two of mine.
Don't worry about it, I'm sure you must have packed them by mistake."
I don't tell him about his brown shoes
Sitting on the floor of my closet.
Those were packed out of spite.
"Did I already tell you? I got promoted last week. Pretty cool.
Hey, have you heard about getting your raise yet?"
I stare blankly at him
And wonder how sharp this fork is.
"That's okay. Your time will come. It will.
How are you doing otherwise? I heard you're still sticking it out
With what's-his-name. How's the 'rock star' thing coming along?"
Too many strikes. I am dumbfounded.
"It's great that you're writing again. It's cute that you're pursuing a dream like that."
I stare at the tablecloth,
Writing his eulogy.
He hasn't noticed that I haven't even opened my mouth
To reposition my gum.
I guess he never needed me.
"It's just great to see you.
Great to talk to you."
The sun rose this morning and tore the sky
In strips of magenta and purple.
It was my joy that made it rise
Because I could not sleep,
Thinking of you.