Categories
Prose

Bedroom Storm – Take Covers

Bashed you over the head with my feelings. I painted a picture with words, and a picture of words with paintings, painting word pictures on pages and walls and trees. Icicle frenzy gripped the monocle of the eye of the hurricane.

Tentative and certain, like a dance with the wrong music, I embrace your strangeness. Your brand of beauty is not available in stores. I couldn’t have tried more if I tried. You took me out of the friend zone, and put me in your bed with a whisper.

I whispered back silently, wordlessly, though I still used my tongue. You reacted just how I had hoped, and then some. Hope was the last thing in Pandora’s box, and I wanted to be the last thing in yours.

The hurricane looked away, blushing.

Categories
Lyrics Poetry

Antidote For Dessert

I could be falling down, never to return
I could be learning how to love myself
Treading on the waves that cancel each other out
Leaving just the water I walk upon

You were a good minus one sometimes
It didn’t matter which one of us left the other behind
As long as we’re together, eye of a hurricane
As long as we’re apart, overcome with inner calm

It could have been different, if I had been stronger
It could have had ripples forward in time
Dreading the pain that comes with separation
Missing the one I left behind

Categories
Philosophy Prose

Perfect Moments In Memory Glass

This is about love.

I watched this movie on Netflix called The Map of Tiny Perfect Things, and it was amazing. Hit me right in the feels. At the end, it was talking about perfect moments, and I realized that I wrote a poem about perfect moments for my middle brother’s wedding – read it during the ceremony, in fact. It’s this:

Eternal Matrimony

I don’t care that you’re running
I know you’re not running away
I don’t mind the mountains you climb
I know you’re not just with me ‘because I’m there’
I don’t mind if you look at another
I know you’re thinking of me
I don’t worry when you’re gone
I know you walk beside me
I don’t care that I may never get everything I want
You are all I need
I’m not upset by the raging river of differences between us
The stepping stones of perfect moments bring me to you
I don’t worry about your past
It brought you to me, and us to this perfect moment
And from this perfect moment to the next
Though our lips part, still we kiss
Though our hands let go, still we touch
Though our eyes close, still we see one another
Though our voices are raised, still we whisper
Of perfect moments and perfect love

In the middle of the movie somewhere, she said she’d only be friends. He wanted more. Unrequited love. And I realized that the moment before it became manifest, the love he felt – the love I feel for someone – is a perfect one. It’s like love is a baseball that can be thrown around and used to play fun games, but the minute it’s unrequited it is like a baseball signed by a World Series winning team. Sure, you worship it, cherish it, look at it from every facet, but you never touch it again, for fear of diminishing its value.

Some perfect moments need to be felt by feeling the feeling of remembering the perfect moment, rather than feeling the moment itself. I’m afraid that reliving the moment itself will eventually make that moment like any moment, one of many, a drop in the ocean, a raindrop in the sky.

A raindrop falling from the vast sky into the vast ocean.

Instead of that one raindrop that causes me and the person I love to smile and laugh and run like crazy for shelter from the storm that just started, and then watching it and listening to each drop, none of them like that first one.

Sometimes an entire person is encased in memory-glass. You can’t go back, you know. You can only remember.

Categories
Prose

You Can’t Go Back

Idle twist with benefits, one, two, three. Desires that take thorns through skin, but never bleed. How many feelings does it take to get to the center of my soul? The world many never know. I may never know. It’s a secret that nobody knows.

Icicles form in summer skies dripping from my eyes. I am cold, and warmth took a holiday. Yet, I burn.

You can never go back. Ever. Back is a nuclear holocaust wrapped in plastic, so it’s toxic and can’t breathe, and skin ripples, and tears pour into wine glasses blood red so everyone can have one.

I revolve around a barycenter between me and the idea of you. Maybe it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it seemed like a good one at the time. Shut up. Stop. Let me bring the center back inside myself and put it between my head and heart again.

Categories
Philosophy Prose

The Coldness Of Dropping Into A Relaxed State

It removes me. Drives the world away for a while, and puts me into my own world. I learned it is better to envision than to replicate. Better to imagine and create from that.

It’s death and life. It’s between. To express a vision. To change an image. My version.

Categories
Story

She Calls Me Home

She woke up and immediately knew she was alone. Sensing his absence from their plush bed was probably the catalyst. She threw on a silk robe and went on a hunt for him through the house they had built together.

She felt him deeply. Their connection had always been strong, but lately it had felt intense, as though they experienced the same senses with the same body. As though they were one. She felt a deep sadness, which concerned her.

She saw him through the glass door of his office, holding papers and glancing at his laptop, sobbing. She watched him, admiring his shoulders and his strength, but appreciating his vulnerability.

She silently opened the door, closing it behind her, and walked quietly around his desk to him. She took the papers out of his hands, sat in his lap facing him, and just held him dearly. He didn’t say a word. He just allowed her to be close, and put his arms around her, closing his eyes.

“Tell me.”

“I had a terrible dream. You were gone, and I couldn’t find you. You were lost to me, and I had to go back to the beginning, our beginning. I came down here half-asleep to read and experience how we began. To remember…”

“I’m right here. I’m never going anywhere.”

“I know, but… you had not simply left. You were dead. I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you. I had to feel all of you again, to bring you back. I can’t lose you.”

“It seems to have worked. Here I am, and I won’t ever leave you.”

She held him close, kissing his forehead and lips, and he visibly relaxed, still sobbing. He held her tighter than she had ever known, relaxing in tranquil bliss.

He had her, and she gave him happiness. He thought of all the times they had shared, all the experiences, and smiled. Like a switch that had been flipped, he suddenly became exquisitely aware of the feel of her skin on his, of their glowing love for one another, the mysterious way time flew by and stopped when they were together.

“I love you.” He was moved by her beauty, her long hair, her deep eyes that captivated him, her delicious curves beneath the silk. He was also moved by her devotion to him, and the total happiness and contentment he felt when he was with her. She had changed his life in so many ways.

“I love you, too.” He stood up with her still in his arms, and headed upstairs back to bed. She wouldn’t let him feel this sadness ever again. How could he? She was everything, and she was right here.

The robe fluttered to the floor…