Heretofore and hereafter

I had a dream I dyed my hair in intergalactic hues
and when I woke up I laughed at myself
thinking about how it would never happen.

I owe you an apology.

I did not see you in the small things.

Yesterday was the hottest day in the city in the last 105 years,
I escaped to the mountains and the sky was so clear
I should have remembered to look for you.

Forgetfulness discredits my promises.

I am in love with a young man who
does not know how to be loved
and I can't teach him.

I tell him he matters and that I won't give him up,
and I choose to love him every new day all over again,
no matter how difficult he makes it sometimes.

I owe you an apology.

I did not see you in the small things.

"If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love."

― George Orwell, 1984

Glittering dimness

I've been known for standing still 
in the crowd long enough to draw its sounds,
get lost. 

He's been known for going places,
talking to strangers, sunflowers, bridges
getting lost.

For some time we kept a trail of stars 
pinned to the sky like crumbs
pointing the way home.

Written for Karin's NaPoWriMo prompt over at the Imaginary Garden 

In this one life

On the night we were introduced
you came out of the shadows supposed as a surprise,
but we were sure to have met before
and that it might have been in another life.

In this one life you skipped classes to see me,
I was grounded for a month
for letting you sleep over while my parents were out of town.
In this one life you were my best friend,
we nearly kissed. Twice.
In this one life it was your choice to part,
it was your choice to stay away.

I kept saying your name for years because
I didn't want to lose it, because I would always
be able to use the letters like coordinates to the memories.
Your leaving ruined me for the human experience.

Written for the PAD Challenge, today we were asked to write about departures, there are a few departures it was hard for me to  get over, this was one of them

Timing

"The sky in March is
as beautiful as I remember
it by your side
and I love you"

- he says.

And he means it.
The way I did once,
watching him disappear behind clouds,
my heart bleeding off altitude.

Blackout recipe

This is how you erase
two thirds of stars
from the sky:
you grow up and apart
from the people
you are loved by,
then you mark
your path back home
with lamp posts.

The woman who mistook a man for wings

I had a guardian angel once -
the thorough thing, halo and wings,
- who would show up at my window
at the faintest mention of his name,
I thought. He did. He can't be seen
in many of my photographs, but he
is the reason I fear to forget
we grow up fast, feet and legs,
when you look further, men are just men.

(This is the story of the first man who left. Written for Play it Again #12 over at the Imaginary Garden. I went with Fireblossom's call for angel poems, the title is a reference to this great book written by neurologist Oliver Sacks: The man who mistook his wife for a hat. There's all kinds of crazy I guess.) 

Lesser and lesser

The first man who left
is in town for a month
and he brings color
back to sunflowers.

It's summer again,
last time we saw each other
there were so many
lights,
butterflies,
strangers,
I couldn't speak,
he must have noticed.
I've been speaking lesser and lesser.

I like saying things in poems
which some believe to be about nobody
but happen to be about people
who come and go because
life is like this
and just a few close observers
can tell.

The first man who left is in town,
we have changed considerably
over the course of the past five years.

I've been speaking lesser and lesser.

We've changed

You meditate.
I have tattoos.
We've changed.

You travel the world.
I write poetry.
We've changed.

You mail letters.
I don't answer.
We've changed.

You learned English.
I go out alone.
We've changed.

Unscathed,
the memory of the last time
our hands touched -

this stays the same.

To the first man who left

There are things
we kept secret after
growing up and apart.

Because they were
so dear to our hearts
they became treasures.

My most painful cry still
dwells on the very corner where
you announced you were leaving.

I never watched the stars
or the city lights with anyone else
from our spot.

I visit it occasionally and
you might be glad to hear that
birds live in our place now.

Someone planted a tree there
and its undisturbed shade
reminds me of your arms.

(Written for the Imaginary Garden Sunday Mini Challenge)

Ready to grow up

We have more than
the words we've imprinted
on each other's bodies.

There is a story of us
which told often
would help me dream.

Two or three times
I hesitated,
two or three times,

to climb that tree
up to the highest branches
to see the world eye to eye with you.

Had I not known
how far from the ground  I was
I might have gotten hurt.

Dreams and fish

A wall. I see a wall
where there was
a garden
once.

Lillies shared space with daisies and dreams
one could always read in the fountain
among the colorful
fish.

I was so young and foolish when he told me the story,
he surrounded me with endearment,
helped me shape the
landscape.

Now I'm older, he left, I have different eyes.
Lillies and daisies are all dead.
Dreams and fish are all
gone.