Bitter cascades of sediment black,
Your chilly cup of sweet,
My calloused hand on your waistband,
A smile pink and replete.
My eyes were tired enough, it seems,
For you to cut me slack,
Your cup now poured,
My spirits soared,
Tandem smiles met to compete.
I shook my head and proudly said,
I much prefer the bitter,
And yet your head, that raven head,
Bounced with loving jitter.
My unheard disdain for sugar and for cream,
Brought forth a gold-filled swoon.
We talked about those pleasantries,
The kind that lovers do,
And yet my dream, oh lucid dream,
Did shatter then with you.
The homely walls and wooden halls,
My chair sat much too short.
An elbow thrust, my wrist adjusts,
A ceramic heart in cavort.
The lazy sun, blanketed in clouds,
Could not shine nearly as bright.
The bitter taste of faded grace,
Cut by illustrious light;
Your smiling face,
Oh, hearts at race,
Did send my soul to flight.
A Wednesday noon betrothed to us,
Our day now well converged;
I ask you now,
I made my vow,
And so the bitter purged.
Be here, now, when I awake,
Don't let my conscious stir.
I fear the distance speaks to me,
Your face to me a blur.
Until I wake, you stand yet here,
Your eyes as dark as myrrh,
I crave your kiss,
Your fingertips,
Instead I fall to Earth.
Another Tuesday, lone and dreary,
Another day-long trek.
I mourn the time unspent.
The phantom scent of your embrace,
Imprinted in my mind.
An impostor warmth from your tightly pressed lips,
A tease;
I fear I'll die.
With pungent tears I raise my head and fall towards the sky,
For if you asked,
Oh, undreamed task,
For you, my love, I'll fly.
So long, lone world, I much prefer,
To dream of her and I.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection
PoesíaA simple collection of my poetry, some gathered from old notebooks and some bespoke writings for this collection. There is something of a narrative, loosely speaking, that could be constructed here, with recurring mentions of places and unnamed cha...
