how i missed those people who planted little seeds in my heart.
seedlings to trees. i have converse with alot of poets here in HP and WC. Though my brain might forget, the feelings they've given me lingers... YOU/they know who they are...
The last time I saw you, I smiled, and feigned Simple friendship with my lips. I walked beside you down a narrow forest trail, Tall grass playing at my fingertips, until we emerged At a stream, where we sat and talked. While my heart beat your rhythm in my ears So loudly that I never stopped to wonder, If my rhythm was beating in yours.
I don’t remember most of what was said. I can see your eyes, sparkling, Darting between mine and the water, Your half smile, playing at the corner of your mouth. I can see your lips moving, soft and full As they wrap themselves around syllables, But I can’t make out the words Just the thumping in my ears.
When I leave, for the last time, we hug. I feel your soft warmth against me And wonder if you can feel yourself Thundering behind my ribs. I hold on, only a second too long, Despite the aching in my blood not to let go, Not to unwrap myself from you. Because part of me knew, this would be the last time.
Why did I come at all, When both of us knew that the stars were already Spinning us out of orbit. To prove to myself that you were just a friend, Or lie to myself that you weren't a lover.
I should have never come, Or never left - But all we say is goodbye.
I haven't forgotten what your smile looks like, the way it breaks open the sky in halves, how it once carved a path through my ribs, a gentle cut that never stopped bleeding.
I haven't forgotten the curve of your lips, a half-moon rising in the darkness, pulling the tides of my body to shore, reaching inside to stitch the torn seams.
I haven't forgotten the way you tasted, like salt and sugar mixed in a kiss, your laughter a bird trapped in the room, desperate to escape but never willing.
I haven't forgotten the silence you left, the echo of that smile in empty rooms, a ghost haunting the space between breaths, and still, it lingers, a wound unhealed.
Every time I eat here, I wonder if she’s still in the restroom. I watch the cakes orbit On refrigerated turntables— a silent waltz for the ballerinas running omelets and coffee. Back when she excused herself to the restroom, the hostess was probably still in diapers.
There are such sweet beginnings And there are our bitter ends. Decades roll and crash like tides; We live, we love, we fall aside. Cut deep the wounds we all inflict, Lasts long the legacy of our shame. Left behind those broken lives, Lost in time the reasons why. There is such hope in our beginnings And this the comfort at our end.
