june 13th-june19th.2008

day 8

i can't believe
how naieve
i've become
gullible goldilocks
in search of a warm bed
to rest my throbbing head
aches punctuate days
and i succumb to
a need for happy endings
once again
sweet prince
i'm asleep in the tower
let my hair down for you
this is me
from the other side of the mirror
i've left you
trails of breadcrumbs
in hopes that you will
find your way home
while i waste time
in my own wonderland
queen of hearts
who cut off her own head


day 9

swallowed
pills and pride
i'm
so tired of writing you poems
holding the pen
with shaky fingers
no substitute for holding you
it gets lonely
living in notebooks
hand to mouth
feeing off scraps
of whatever is left to give
after the front of the line
has been served
seems most days
i'm ashamed of my own words
the bi-polarities
of our affairs
back and forths
like tennis
but i cant remember
whose court the ball is in
or why love is synonymous with zero

should have seen it coming
we gemini's love schizophrenically
and the four of us make for
a confusing crowd
when you never know which ace
you'll get

our disguises ever-changing
keep us locked in a world
of make believe
and i cant help but
wonder
is it as hard for you?
because i've grown weak.
and weary
of paths that dont seem to
cotton to reality
of driveways leading to
our broken home
that never really had all the pieces.

day 10.

teacher becomes student
or: you should think twice before stepping into this chaos

lessons manifest
in daily blessings of your pen
not at home
on the other side of desks
but i shall bend....
...for you
guide my fingers to paint
in colors undiscovered
as landscapes take shape across canvasses
of the heart

you are the art
i wish my novice hands could create
clay molded into monuments
of aesthetic beauty
i know not how to capture,
sufficiently,
the outline of your spine
or the curve of your neck
where my lips have long sought out shelter

please teach me

to compose melodies
that play the rhythms of your thoughts
sonatas that sing
as sweet as your whispers

oh to be the playwright
who could author
the soliloquies
i
intend to offer
when the stage becomes set
for the teacher
who wants
only to be
your student.


day 11.

today
i bring nothing.

empty handed and
heavy hearted,
poetry holds no peace tonight.

you
are insurmountable
and i'm so tired of climbing.

these walls are too high
and a cell phone
tucked between shoulder and ear
is a poor substitute
for your presence.

day 11.2

broken
hundreds of pieces
cant find words
voice
shattered
thoughts incomplete
sometimes i'm like this
feet treading
too close to edges
of graves
i dug for you
cant stop the hands
from reaching
down
i need you
in the vacuum of night
when shadows emerge
from corners
and even the silence
is deafening.

i'm not as strong
as i've been pretending.


day 12.


*common


day 13

never one
to play the hand dealt,
i traded up
for uncertainty.

rearranged suits,
made due
with what was given.
upped the ante and
spread cards on the table.

and in the end,
the house folds
in silence.

day 14

and he leaves me with dreams...

we blend
into
kaleidoscope sunrises...
broken pieces combined
with the stroke of the master's brush
mottled greys turned
red and fiery
as i paint you

passion's tongue strokes
upon your canvass
hands reaching
to search the ends
of skins' beginnings

if time could slow
i'd pause the seconds
and exist in this
suspended moment of bliss

your fingers
running gently through my hair
drifting downwards
to lace around the neck
trembling hands
wrapped 'round your legs
trapping heat
within the spaces where
thighs meet

complete

like kaleidoscope sunrises...
broken pieces
melting into tapestries
of greater dreams
to come