Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Myths

The city looks like stars, and if holding your breath through tunnels really made desires come to life, whole hearts would breathe deeply again at the other end and join the expansive mob of people in movement, and I know you wanted those myths to be true, but the cold sun outside my window is true, and this moment as well, and can't that be enough?

Puddles

Your face is swimming in the water before me; these sun soaked, sky ridden puddles we meet on the streets, and it is you, and me, and us, as always. And now and then because then couldn't last till now by stretching itself out across the moments and exist in both places. And we were then, and I am now, and welcome back to yourself.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Composure

The light on your face, on that night in the snow;
I knew better back then, but something in me let go.
But what does it matter, if you never see the sun?
Locked up in your room, you're coming undone.
Perfect composure, out on the street,
Frozen by fear of expectations you never could meet.
Something rich, something strong, that you lost long ago,
Is the only thing that could keep you,
But you'll never again know.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Ripple

He had ideas. Positively brimming with them. She had an off the shoulder sweater and a fear of being alone at night. They understood, but opposed each other, and one cold night when the heat was out, they danced.
Their walls didn't crumble; in fact, remained quite in tact. Wary of themselves. Wary of each other. Wary because the world is alive with the arson of the past; flames that never quite die, but linger and wait for the right moments to dance behind your eyes, or deep in your stomach. And despite this, they grew. Became comfortable. Found blankets, found moments, found this moment-just this one- to live in.
This moment stretched, and true to form, ended. No love story in epic ending, just one moment-just that one-sliding into the next, it's ripple in time smoothing until it became one fluid particle in the fabric of every other moment, which slid into the next, ended, and slid smoothly into the next..