language: revisited

you’re spewing words
without meaning
filling silence
with syllables
making
empty excuses
that
          float
                     around
our feet
unable to rise
to the occasion
stiff like summer
stabbing like sorrow–
i ask you
to enjoy the
stillness
to hear
without listening
     mouths unmoving
anything said
won’t translate
                            vanishing
into a
      void
of arbitrary signs;
Saussure
would be
so silently
proud.

colors

She watches the floating colors from passing cars dance across his face as he sleeps. In the still darkness, she whispers words of love and hopes he hears them, a closeness forged in the unconscious.
    He had been awake for too many weeks straight, stressed self-awareness that made him uneasy in the knees, ill-minded from too many coherent thoughts.
    Now he just sleeps.
She stays awake to measure his breathing, taking note of his heart rate and watching the floating colors of passing cars dancing around his features. The blues crowd in the corners of his quiet mouth, the reds powder his flushed cheeks, the greens slide beneath his eyes, puddles of exhaustion; the yellows drift across his features as a whole, like the sun in a rush to rise.
    She drums her fingers against his chest to match the pattern of inhales, marking an invisible tally each time he smiles from far away.
    Despite sub-conscious separation, this is when she feels closest to him, when she has no knowing of his thoughts, able to create stories of what drifts through his tired mind. Stories in which things are easier and the colors dance across their face yellow, like the sun desperate to rise to bring them back together.

untitled memory

you visit me in sleep
hum you’re still here
and i trust you.

i talk to your memory in morning
watch the sunrise with you
from a distance–

do you watch it too
    replaying summer scenes?
do you still reach over
    to place a hand upon my own?

there are letters i’ll never send
words i can never say
all addressed to you
    to us
to the past present future
i always assumed you would be in.

i count cardinals
from winter windows
waiting for seasons to change–

warmer days await
in which distance
won’t feel seem
so daunting.

Nostos

She walked in, a gust of nostalgic summer air, with that inviting smile across her face. The room instantly smelt of her skin, a thin layer of July humidity laid like lace upon her chest. I didn’t say hello, nor did I wave or attempt eye contact–too much time bridged between us. But, I sat there and watched her familiar yet unfamiliar figure flutter about as she ordered her coffee, as she made casual conversation with people in her new life.
   I was hidden in the past, pressed between pages of a book she once recommended, lost in lines on hands that once held hers. How beautiful she was as the sun hit her face, I cannot describe. Age had given her a confidence she flaunted as she walked; hips now full, swung side to side seductively. Had she seen me, I don’t know what I would have said. Foolishly, I may have told her I still loved her, perhaps more then than ever, mesmerized by the way her hair hung down her back in a loose braid, resting at the small of her back.
     Truthfully, I would have apologized for having shown her just how cruel love can be.
   Yet, she never met my gaze, floating out the door as if she were never truly there, leaving me to mull over memories–her scent stuck in my nostrils, her laugh echoing in my ear. I apologized to myself for ever letting her go, a reminder of how cruel love can be.

dependent

Headlights dance upon the wall, growing closer in the dark.
   I know they’re not yours. 
My regrets grow
reimagining your taillights diminishing into darkness, 
leaving my mistakes in the front yard,
priceless actions no one buys the excuses for.
And I’m alone
in the house that was once ours,
your belongings absent,
leaving a void hollower than your voice
as you said
goodbye.
I stare up passed the ceiling searching for answers from the sky
on why I can never allow happiness to settle within my bones
always running away from what I know I want
in an endless hunt to avoid need—
my dependency was never on you
but in bottles I hid in,
too fearful to face life
without buffers.
Know it was never you I was trying to escape,
and it was never you I wanted to leave
and I’m sorry
that in order to lose myself I had to lose you first.
And I admit
I could have been better
and I hope you believe
that I wanted to be better
but the timing of the hands wasn’t correct,
now stuck ticking in the wrong meter
jerking
   back and forth
between the same second
and I’m stuck
reimagining your taillights diminishing into
the darkness
caving in around me
as I finally outrun myself.