With letters of my past lovers pasted
on the walls of my labyrinth, calling upon my
inability to satiate hungers for the unknown,
I pace between the evidence of lucidly
failed attempts at love. Tilting my head
back, I cradle the memories of nights
spent with unknown souls, pawing and
wading through similarities, commonalities -
anything to grasp and forge bonds;
hand pressed against leg, warm and
moist to the touch, daring to pass barriers we
keep; making small spaces between
fingers like they were souls coming together
after decades apart; movies shared and repeated,
cherished and recreated, after a meal cooked together.
Unfulfilling adventures, repeatedly left lonely
to the night’s cold grasps, with only our truths.
I wrap myself into you, like the folds of linens after
they’ve hung to dry in the crisp spring breeze.
Perhaps these are the arms, after years of holding
and fumbling for words; there will be no after-image,
sad memory, old photograph reminisced upon and over;
with clarity, I take you in - the sail pulled taught in the
wind, moving ship and soul forward - we may find our
worlds weaved together. End of night does not come,
together always - bobbing up and down, laughing at our
insecurities, presenting our hearts as a sturdy mast, exploring depth
and breadth of what it is to be. With you, A Lover, captivated
by the swell and relief of the tides in the sea.
on the walls of my labyrinth, calling upon my
inability to satiate hungers for the unknown,
I pace between the evidence of lucidly
failed attempts at love. Tilting my head
back, I cradle the memories of nights
spent with unknown souls, pawing and
wading through similarities, commonalities -
anything to grasp and forge bonds;
hand pressed against leg, warm and
moist to the touch, daring to pass barriers we
keep; making small spaces between
fingers like they were souls coming together
after decades apart; movies shared and repeated,
cherished and recreated, after a meal cooked together.
Unfulfilling adventures, repeatedly left lonely
to the night’s cold grasps, with only our truths.
I wrap myself into you, like the folds of linens after
they’ve hung to dry in the crisp spring breeze.
Perhaps these are the arms, after years of holding
and fumbling for words; there will be no after-image,
sad memory, old photograph reminisced upon and over;
with clarity, I take you in - the sail pulled taught in the
wind, moving ship and soul forward - we may find our
worlds weaved together. End of night does not come,
together always - bobbing up and down, laughing at our
insecurities, presenting our hearts as a sturdy mast, exploring depth
and breadth of what it is to be. With you, A Lover, captivated
by the swell and relief of the tides in the sea.
