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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

meet me in October,

and we can relive

that moment when

the focus of my life

 

became trying to get

outside of this fence that

chains me in—

holds me in—

and into your heart,

into your mind,

never regretting a thing.

 

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You are my color—

Every hue, every tint is part of a masterpiece,

Which only now has been unveiled to me:

A work of swirling shades and dizzying tinges,

Of impeccable details woven together into a vision

That makes the onlooker gasp and the artist beam with pride.

You are the sky after the storm,

When the rain turns into drops of the sun

And the flashes of lighting surrender to your fireworks,

Whose crashes and booms will away the song of thunder.

Your eyes are blind, you cannot see what I behold,

But your words are art; you are my color—

The only splash of paint in a world of charcoal.

 

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Throwing pebbles that skim the surface—

The water’s depths will always remain a mystery.

If you spoke to the fish, they would tell you

That I’m wading in my mind’s shallow sea

And glimpsing at you through the waves—

You, the moon who quietly ebbs the tides.

 

A self-absorbed onlooker is all I am.

You are the only one who can pull me away

From my own mind, from my own surface.

 

All the world’s wonders combined, I see in you;

The Great Pyramid a mere pile of blocks

And the Taj Mahal a tombstone—

New York City a small town, if you’ve never been there,

And if you have, a world in and of itself.

 

We step in the same circles and lines.

Your air is mine, and the wind that caresses your face

Is the wind that tangles my hair and whispers to me

Things of the past, things beyond this wretched present,

 

Where we are unchained bandits and uncensored gamblers

Who put our money on the things we tell others

And choke on words left unsaid face-to-face.

Others forget, we never forget—

We never learn, we never try.

 

And so I wonder if silence is truly golden,

Lips glued shut, tongue dry,

My eyes cast down and yours like they were that October day

When all this started.

Yet—this is nothing, nothing at all on the surface.

 

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The day came upon us like Indian rain,

And with it, our fruits of labor grew,

Seeds that we’d been planting for months now,

All twenty-six of us, savages,

Nestled halfway between the Florida sun

And the storm steadily brewing in the distance.

 

When we danced, we sounded like a thunderclap,

Our feet ferociously pounding upon the pavement.

The beads on the hems of our T-shirts

Swung like pendulums,

And our painted faces gleamed with sweat.

The sound of the beating drum,

Thump thump, thump thump,

Woven together with the lonesome melody of a flute—

That was our heartbeat, that was the sound of the spirits

Watching us as we twirled in the midst of crystal droplets.

 

I still remember his clammy hand in mine,

The broken savage with the big brown eyes—

Two stars about to blink away before the dawn—

He and I.

I slipped off my feather earrings and

Stepped into the storm.

Thump thump, thump thump.

My beating heart willing me to look back.

But I never did, I never did.

 

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It’s funny how faulty faultlessness is

Compared to your eyes under these

Fluorescent ceiling lights.

I don’t know the color of those eyes,

Even though I’ve stared at your pictures

For hours on end—pixelated masterpieces

That put the work of Da Vinci to shame.

 

For there is no muse more worthy than you,

But perhaps it is all in vain

Since when I paint you into my memory.

I get so breathless I forget the details,

And I forget where I started, and where I should end,

And my train of thought screeches in its tracks—

Crash—what color are your eyes?

 

The half-light is streaming in through the window;

It was sunny today—it wasn’t supposed to be,

But it was.

Now the sun is gone—

Welcome to the city of gloom,

Where I never have seen more light,

Especially radiating from you.

 

I just hope you remember the girl

With the half-pretty face

And the smile half as bright as yours,

For you are wholly perfection—

Holy perfection—

The only being I could ever truly worship,

But you never look down when I kiss your feet.

 

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How could I be happy with someone who isn’t you?

How could I be happy when you’re not there to be happy too?

How could I want someone else now that we have met?

How could I go about using someone else to help me forget?

How could I be satisfied with stars now that I’ve seen the sun?

How could I want to reach the end when it’s only just begun?

How could I let you slip away when I’ve wanted you for years?

How could I ponder it all without being struck by tears?

How could I let my fate be so recklessly told?

How could I settle for steel after feasting my eyes upon gold?

How could I watch one of those fools try to steal my heart?

How could I let my dreams of you be suddenly torn apart?

How could I turn the page when I’m still stuck on your word?

How could I forget your voice—the prettiest thing I’ve heard?

How could I let myself be weak when I’ve sworn to be tough?

How could I admit that of you I haven’t had enough?

How could I submit to their smiles when they do not compare?

How could I let my eyes drift closed when I see you everywhere?

In all these questions, one word to me stands out—

If I can’t claim your love as mine, then “how?”

 

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I saw you on a Tuesday

Amidst a sea of bodies, a plethora of faces—

Faces lit up with liveliness yet holding no light for me—

An overcast sky, but the sun shone suddenly

When I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

Forget it, I thought,

But forgetting that face is like forgetting the stars—

Such an impossible and foolish feat;

On pitch black nights I will need the memory

Of when I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

I met you on a Wednesday

At a table full of people who made me feel alone;

I felt your approach intensely before you came

Like a railroad feeling a coming train—

You shook me when we met on a Wednesday.

 

A handful of exchanged words,

An apprehension that would sear at the touch—

I watched and was caught when I let my eyes roam,

And never before did I feel more alone

Than when I met you on a Wednesday.

 

The past flashed before my eyes

And left me as stranded as the present,

Which was a joy so great it felt like a void of sorrow;

My heart told me, “You’ll regret this tomorrow,”

But I already regretted meeting you on a Wednesday.

 

I missed you on a Thursday,

Drowning in the water I let slip through my fingers

When all I wanted was a drink—I watch it in my mind,

A silent film unfolding in black-and-white—

I missed my chance—and you on a Thursday.

 

Despair was deferred only by the hope

Of basking again in your Tuesday-light

And redeeming myself by reliving that Wednesday meet;

I will not let that Thursday repeat—

There was a glimmer of hope for a Friday.

 

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My days—my precious days!—where do they go

 

When I’m immersed in dreams of you and I?

 

My time—my treasured time!—how it does fly!

 

This fantasy of mine is all I know,

 

For when I’m living life I am in woe,

 

And my foe, Anguish, is whom I defy

 

With these dreams in which there is no goodbye

 

And no reason to ever say hello.

 

My love has not been false to any end;

 

Reality appears to have no heart—

 

If anything it wants for us to part,

 

For it does not show sympathy to truth.

 

It seems as though Anguish is its best friend:

 

The adversary of the love-struck youth.

 

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The brightness of the room had faded—that, or just my eyes were jaded—

Jaded like how I feel when my mind flips back to you,

And it does that quite often; I admit my heart does soften

After I have firstly hardened—every time, as though on cue.

 

I was rather conflicted for it wasn’t as predicted:

I had thought that maybe you’d appear and want to stay around.

I started to consider leaving as soon as I stopped believing

That both you and my hopelessly lost hopes could be found.

 

Making for the door, I swear—but then I saw you standing there

In the threshold with my lost hopes held out in your hand.

I stifled back a relieved sigh and made sure not to catch your eye—

Kicking myself for not being confident, as planned.

 

An hour uneventful passed; I struggled to make seconds last

But all for naught—you never so much as glanced in my way.

My heavy heart was sinking, and down with it went my thinking

That perhaps this wait for your love would conclude itself today.

 

I risked a peek in your direction, for I longed to see perfection;

You were packing up your things to go, I realized.

I mustered up my bravery, and before I could choose to flee,

I’d already looked into your forget-me-not blue eyes.

 

Somehow I managed talking instead of me merely gawking,

Yet such were my nerves that I can’t bring to mind what I did speak.

Nonetheless your smile made everything worth the while,

And I swear I saw a tiny dimple indent your left cheek.

 

Ironically, I wished you’d leave, for right then, I could barely breathe;

You took your things and went your way without hesitancy.

But your smile had shone so bright that I knew I’d said something right,

And I was glad to have my once-lost hopes returned to me.

 

Now when I’m reminiscing I see that romance was missing,

But it’s clear that you and I both witnessed sparks go off that day.

We can be secret sweethearts and pray silently to the stars

That someday one of us will have the courage to change our fate.

 

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Jill’s been waiting on a hill for long as she remembers—

She’s cold and all alone in this last week before November.

Jack is walking by and finds this aforementioned hill;

He decides to make the climb and that’s when he meets Jill.

 

Jack is nothing special, but there’s something in his eyes—

Jill is something special, but it’s never realized.

Nonetheless, Jack thinks that maybe this hill could be home—

He grins at Jill, and she forgets she was ever alone.

 

They kid around until they’re tired of their own jokiness—

He loves how her laugh bubbles out with every word he says.

Each time his gaze darts toward her, she sees and can’t help but wonder

If he, too, might be falling for this spell she’s been put under.

 

But one day Jack decides that it’d be best if he returned—

His friends are waiting down below and surely they’re concerned.

Jill, crossing her arms, is forced to swallow down her pride—

She turns her face away from him so he won’t see her cry.

 

Jack leaves the hill, but so does Jill—the latter in a huff;

She tromps her way down to the ground, cursing her own bad luck.

She hopes that she won’t ever find someone like Jack again—

A boy who seems so perfect but who’ll break her in the end.

 

Meanwhile, Jack forgot to fetch that damned old pail of water—

He climbs the hill just like he did the first day that he saw her.

Jill is at the bottom while she watches it with glee:

Jack falls down and there’s no one who’s as broken as he.

 

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