The further away we may wander,
the closer to the heart our olden days become
the people who welcomed us
the places we danced
the music that still lingers in the air
with the love of a dream still shared...

The further away we may wander
we love each new adventure
never knowing where the road may lead
but we will always fondly look back
to the many homes our hearts have known
and wish upon wish to share our adventures
and roads with the people who celebrate our joy...

The further away we may wander,
we come to realize
places are meant to be left behind
but the smiles and loves we found there
will forever be part of who we are

beauty is a terrible force of nature,
terrible in its wrath for the heart that loves it,  
terrible in its burden to the heart that carries it,
terrible to the heart that beholds it and cannot embrace it...

beauty is adoration of all lovely thoughts and hopes,
beauty is adoration of all that is found and lost again in the heart,
beauty is adoration of the sweetest dreams that we wish we could never wake from...

Beauty speaks to you in a silent lust for what cannot ever be yours alone,
Beauty speaks of all the lives one could live in such a sweet natural place,
beauty speaks of how it can never be happy because so many fear it

lesser forms of sunshine
each a design dreamt long ago
each a blissful madness of joy
they invade the room through the open window
while the shadow of a man recites "Hamlet"
in a cold gravel voice
a prince born of such a bold pen
such a tale forever told yet again

"Hamlet" reaches the end of his nonsense verse
no tragedy of princes can tell the whole tale
there is always the love so long restrained
that bursts all the inhibitions and makes
the world all about her

a prince born of such a bold pen
such a tale forever told yet again
penned by figures clouded in mysteries created
a name that is known to every house and citadel
speaking to a world he never could imagine
all these centuries later
his words still stir

So dear the art
I never had to finish

So spellbinding the love
That never got the chance to turn grim.

Frozen hour
Hazy season.

I finish your sentences by
Pulling the words out of your mouth
Lending language to indecision
Lending tongue to unperfected precision
When the others talked about the bad guy in the book
I never used my ears.
Horse blinders on my head on the fissured sidewalk
I finally saw the unfantastical you I was falling into.

I wanted to comb out the phone wires myself
To tell them it was all true
But with my fingers on your sleeping head
I could not bring myself to split time in half
And offer a moment where my digits didn't graze your face.
I could feel you confining me to the margins of a book
You were ready to return
But you bent me over too many times.

The first time we talked about reading
We laughed about how we couldn’t make sense of paperback
Unless we had a pencil.
We were more similar than you thought, no?

I still think about the highlights,
I still remember your lines.

I remember we took a walk most days that
allowed it. In step down the sidewalks,
we might have laughed at something
or another that I had said,
there was plenty of laughter
to go around then—and plenty of sidewalks.
They stretched around the river and
laced up the streets past the gym
where we met towards the house
that became our home.
Walking back, you might have smiled
or playfully slapped away my hand
from the small of your back before
leaning in to kiss my cheek.

Affection was neither of our strong suits
but it was a suit you wore better
than I did.

I remember you wore a black coat on our
first date and shrugged
out of it as we walked up to
the restaurant—baring a lone shoulder
and my first glimpse into your past.
I held the door and you rearranged
your hair, hiding it again.

I remember the scar was barely noticeable then,
me just a stranger and concerned
with so many other things.
How would the food taste?
How would the service be?
Would you like me enough to walk
those sidewalks home for another drink?

It was not until later that I would
find out what a burden that
small slip of flesh truly was.

I remember you had a slight fear of those
sidewalk cellar doors,
just enough to step around them each time
with a bit of a blush on your cheek
as if it were something to be ashamed of.

How strange, these things you remember.

This place to me now is not a city,
but an old ruin full and full of sidewalks
and, like a child with imagined lava,
I fear to touch them for the burn
of what remembrance they might bring.

For some freedom is a goal never achieved
but only dreamt,
for some, it is the adoration of an idealism that is placed on a
pedestal to remain forever just a symbol...
But for the wild and untamed it is the very breath sharply taken in
at majestic beauties beheld with a loving eye,
for the wild and untamed freedom is the heart unbound and adventuring
in the many fold wonders of the world...
I see in you such a wild and untamed soul,
be that freedom's torch that sets fire to those souls that yearn and dream...
be that freedom that lights the way
©2022 Junor

I came lookin'
lookin' far an' wide
for some cumbersome thing
that I could weigh myself down with
keep me from drifting away
something heavy
something true
a big thing
a tiny thing
just need a few moments of clarity
just for a moment where troubles cease
just one moment of knowing
just one moment resting assured
all is safe and sane in my world
all is good between you and I
that it has all not been
a silent recording
whispers never shouted
a photograph of the lens cap
Been looking high and low
for an encumbrance that could keep me here
to be able to hear you sing that song
without missing you
without wanting  
without fear

How tragic our narrative must be

To experience a love story
Without ears to listen