3/30 (Etch-A-Sketch)
June began the longest six months of my life.
The sun let me slip between her fingers on Master avenue and Diamond street.
My first summer in Philadelphia.
The summer I was waiting for him.
The toughest man I knew.
A Goliath type with a hard head and a beautiful smile.
A tawny colored gentleman who's skin seemed to dance seductively stretched across his 6'3 bones.
He was my summer love.
And like most summer loves,
He disappeared before fall could peek her head around the corner of my block.
He missed the turning of the leaves,
Green to yellow and red.
They moved slowly down my street,
Trying to ensure he would not miss them.
It was too late.
A foolish boy once,
He allowed his bravery to get larger then his pride,
And he joined the navy.
A seemingly easy decision then,
But now I was left begging for the time between his adolescence and our meeting,
When he signed his life away to protect some version of the American dream that didn't hold ownership in his chest.
He was a dedicated solider.
Cryptic text messages and short emails with "I love you" promises thatkept me lonely.
Trying to blink away memories of firework skulls and the blinding sun.
One second away from burning the robe bought before departure.
And sacrificing the relationship in the fire.
But he returned.
Bundled up in a suit the color of casualties
And a duffle bag full of skeletons.
No longer the man who would playfully pick me up.
He had slipped away in Iraq.
Was abandoned next to his comrad's morals.
He hugged me longer then ever before.
And at night,
I watched ghosts play dodgeball with his heart and emotions.
Have you ever seen a grown man cry in his sleep?
A strong man
Made of gang signs and a sense of humor.
He grabbed me at night.
Pulled me into his chest.
I didn't have enough heart to tell him I was terrified.
Didn't know what someone as small as I,
Could do to rescue this man.
He quaked under the weight of his decisions.
An etch-a-sketch,
Shaking to create new mental pictures.
He would never sleep peaceful again.
Could never forget the experiences he had.
He was a puzzle.
Knocked over
Scattered pieces.
He could never love the same when he came back.
Pieces were never put together in the same way again.
Something would forever be missing.
The sun let me slip between her fingers on Master avenue and Diamond street.
My first summer in Philadelphia.
The summer I was waiting for him.
The toughest man I knew.
A Goliath type with a hard head and a beautiful smile.
A tawny colored gentleman who's skin seemed to dance seductively stretched across his 6'3 bones.
He was my summer love.
And like most summer loves,
He disappeared before fall could peek her head around the corner of my block.
He missed the turning of the leaves,
Green to yellow and red.
They moved slowly down my street,
Trying to ensure he would not miss them.
It was too late.
A foolish boy once,
He allowed his bravery to get larger then his pride,
And he joined the navy.
A seemingly easy decision then,
But now I was left begging for the time between his adolescence and our meeting,
When he signed his life away to protect some version of the American dream that didn't hold ownership in his chest.
He was a dedicated solider.
Cryptic text messages and short emails with "I love you" promises thatkept me lonely.
Trying to blink away memories of firework skulls and the blinding sun.
One second away from burning the robe bought before departure.
And sacrificing the relationship in the fire.
But he returned.
Bundled up in a suit the color of casualties
And a duffle bag full of skeletons.
No longer the man who would playfully pick me up.
He had slipped away in Iraq.
Was abandoned next to his comrad's morals.
He hugged me longer then ever before.
And at night,
I watched ghosts play dodgeball with his heart and emotions.
Have you ever seen a grown man cry in his sleep?
A strong man
Made of gang signs and a sense of humor.
He grabbed me at night.
Pulled me into his chest.
I didn't have enough heart to tell him I was terrified.
Didn't know what someone as small as I,
Could do to rescue this man.
He quaked under the weight of his decisions.
An etch-a-sketch,
Shaking to create new mental pictures.
He would never sleep peaceful again.
Could never forget the experiences he had.
He was a puzzle.
Knocked over
Scattered pieces.
He could never love the same when he came back.
Pieces were never put together in the same way again.
Something would forever be missing.
4/30 (Spring Has Sprung: Part 3)
Spring has an incredible aroma.
An intoxicating esscence of bees kissing pollen and trees,
Just beginning to blush buds.
The clouds tickle the sky's knees,
And she smiled a bright yellow glow.
I found you here.
I had been slow dancing in my palms,
Praying you would make it back to my fingertips soon.
And you did.
As familiar as my feet that had been hiding from winter
In thick socks and boots.
Comfortable and soft,
It was as if winter hadn't happened.
The cold words,
Harsh actions,
And icy seperation could not exsist in this space.
This space where morning breath left a trail on your inner thighs.
This space.
This time.
Maybe this time will be different.
But only the satellites in the sky know,
If winter has truely finished running her course.
An intoxicating esscence of bees kissing pollen and trees,
Just beginning to blush buds.
The clouds tickle the sky's knees,
And she smiled a bright yellow glow.
I found you here.
I had been slow dancing in my palms,
Praying you would make it back to my fingertips soon.
And you did.
As familiar as my feet that had been hiding from winter
In thick socks and boots.
Comfortable and soft,
It was as if winter hadn't happened.
The cold words,
Harsh actions,
And icy seperation could not exsist in this space.
This space where morning breath left a trail on your inner thighs.
This space.
This time.
Maybe this time will be different.
But only the satellites in the sky know,
If winter has truely finished running her course.
7/30 (For Kavi)
To the woman who has my best friend's heart underneath her mattress for a rainy day:
The poems read about you preceded your face.
There was a struggle.
To sift through the exaggerations and the broken hearts to find you.
Here.
Breathing life into a heart deemed rusted and broken.
You have proven to be something more then the women who came before you.
Brought light to emotions that hugged shadows.
So love like you are not a poet.
That you are more then fleeting words,
And broken promises.
Love like you,
Alone,
Have the power to create affection and purpose in her open cavities.
Do this with your wrists.
And thighs.
Hold her between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.
Remember our past only matters,
When we take no future actions.
And love like she does for you.
Effortlessly.
NON-poem business now... A song you should hear today: La Roux- Bulletproof
"Do your dirty words come out to play when you are hurt?.. This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof..."-La Roux
A shoe to worship when ballsy enough... Alexander McQueen 2009
i fuckin' love this shoe.
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