“too good for you”

 

i don’t want to feel “too good for you”
despite the things you’ve done.
i’ve never fancied love a sport,
scores tallied, lost or won.

i don’t want to feel “too good for you”
despite what i’ve been told.
for no one else could understand
our context as a whole.

i don’t want to feel “too good for you”
though sometimes, i admit
i try because it helps to make
you easier to quit.

i wish i felt “just right for you”
because i feel its true, that
we’re made less of the things we’ve done,
and more of the things we’ll do.

the telephone line

 

the final time we spoke
it was the telephone line,
which kept us together
long after our farewells had been uttered.

we lingered in silence
for we each feared severing that
last connection –
all that remained between us.

i waited for you to end our call.
you did the same.

empty seconds turned into minutes.
that damned telephone line
carrying nothing, yet everything.

shallow breaths, punctuated by heavy sighs…
will i ever know a more meaningful silence?

the dock

 

my dear
when we first fell in love

i thought i might make a worthy cornerstone.
set first in your foundation,
a solid base upon which could be ensured
a straight and robust construction.

to that end, i lodged myself in a firm place.
digging deep into the earth and
calcifying in my resolve to ever support you.
indeed i boasted that anything built upon
such rock would surely endure and flourish.

but how foolish was this conception?
in my haste, i had overlooked the sturdy vessel
that you had already been constructing for years.
built to withstand the open seas –
to journey to lands unknown and far away.

and so it was one day,
realizing the error of my ways
i rushed to the waterfront
just as you cast your sails into the wind.
you waved a sad and solemn goodbye.

on these shores i have since built a dock.
a structure which, unlike a cornerstone
set in its position, may rise and fall with the tides.
and which, rather than serving as a foundation
may serve simply as a refuge
from long, weary days at sea.

thus do i remain
ready should the need ever arise
to grant you safe harbor.

you couldn’t look more beautiful

 

we are tired
exhausted –
the day has come
and with its passing has stripped us bare.

we make no pretense.
no longer stand our walls – we are without will to raise them

and in this moment,
my eyes ask me if they have not been fooled.

in this moment
i am afforded a glimpse
of you
at your most you.

and i am reminded how i love you.
for you couldn’t look more beautiful than you do.

These streets

 

do you remember that time?
that first time we lost ourselves in the streets of boston?
it was a be-witching hour, as frosted (snow) flakes careened toward our unprotected faces, carried on a frigid wind.
we bought some real frosted flakes at cvs, the only place with warm lights and an unlatched door.

that’s not true.

but i wanted to buy some frosted flakes; and in retrospect it would’ve been so appropriate.

 

do you remember that time?
when i met you at the bus station?
you were wearing yellow.  i brought you flowers.
you had baggage.  i wheeled it behind us as we walked.

 

do you remember that time?
our chance meeting on beacon?
you looked so lovely that night.
(and i hadn’t kissed you in years.)
we stayed out past our bedtimes.

wandering
and i drove you home.

 

i know these streets, now.
they have at once become my daily routine.

but they carry such memories, too.

More than simply, things.

 

her gossamer presence

settling alight grained surface and porous fabric.
invisible but not forgotten.  felt though not perceived.
its stewardship has come to me.

and so.

with each rise and fall of my figure i endeavor to stay.  my.  breath.
with each proximate pass of the hand i hesitate ever so,   slightly.

mindful to avoid disturbing such peace, so as to grant this ethereal substance occasion to seep in and indelibly stain.

invisible but not forgotten.  felt though not perceived.

a thursday night ponderance

 

are we
but figments of time and space?
filaments through which unarticulated energy

 

may spark.

 

and give rise to…

a fleeting existence (purpose, really?)

is this humanity comprised merely of a loose affiliation of atoms
outnumbered even by the microscopic stuff, found
both on and within these corporeal forms?

if i am more not matter than matter
do i still matter?

Beautiful is the Night

 

it is twilight.

as the sun retreats beyond the horizon
a permeating darkness fills the air
conjoining us and the stars.

one.

two.

three.

seconds fall, each with the deliberation
of a thousand years.
my eyelids follow suit.

and i, in that heartbeat
without intending it
nor fully comprehending how
encounter peace in its most rarefied form.

beautiful is the night
in which you and i, two adventurers we
marry the earth in slumber.

You Will Know My Love

 

grant that i may tarry awhile in this.
for though my tongue and neither my heart
possess the faculty upon which to base such lofty verse
i do find truth.

you will know
my love, not by the dexterity
with which I assemble
the words that impart to you how I do.
but by the lack thereof.
by the moments
in which justice falls without my reach,
moments attributed not to any
deficiency of passion
but to the sheer magnitude of this
foolhardy
endeavor.

yet –
i do not relegate myself to reciting
greeting. card. fodder.

but with dogged determination, continue.
my wayward journey to your heart.

though I will try, I will fail.
though I will fail, I am compelled.

and you will know my love, verily,
as it reveals to you its oblique nature
in ample words undeserving of your perfection.