Our trinity

Misunderstandings, assumptions and lies. They are all the same unless you stop making assumptions that I understand your lies.

Dandelions in Heart Boxes

One might say I loved you.

Sandboxes and puppy paw print tires 

is what I remember of you.

Long hot summers spent splashing knee deep in plastic pools.

Cold winters spend building forts, 

bundled up so tightly we could spend hours out there.

I used to sit at your fence and have conversations with your dog, 

convinced he was the only one who understood me.

King,

Of the backyard you were.

I,

was your queen.

Delicate

Definitions divide the divine of what we desire.

Do not delegate your dreams under definitions.

You do not decide what you desire.

Denounce you struggle and discard your plan.

Don't you remember the first day we danced down the dry river?

Droplets of rain drained from the sun. Drenched hearts and delicate hands are depicted.

Delicate hearts we possess.

Dreamy days will drag out.

We are far more deserving than we deem.

We delight in our debt.

We drowned in our doubt.

For my Dad

The smell of tires and overheated air hits us like confetti pieces as if we've just won the Superbowl.

This is how I choose to remember you.

This was the beginning to our "adventures", hours lost aimlessly wandering down isles. The list mom wrote, neatly tucked away in the bottom of one of our pockets, whoever she deemed more responsible that day.

Our bellied laughs would bellow clear over the bird feeders, past the flannel lined jeans, and beyond the orange slice candies.

We taught ourselves a new language. One when spoken, always accompanied with a flimsy tongue. One when spoken to anyone but you was just babble.

In this place, we found life without a limit. One where dancing among the Harley Davison vests was acceptable. One where testing the army surplus metal helmets only seemed logical.

We found a place where you didn't have to grow up, time stopped.

For us, we found a place that created equals of us.

These memories, like words stored in dictionaries, are stored in the pages of my mind. On lonely days I visit them, flipping pages, finding your voice, your smile and your silly dance. They echo off the walls of my memories.
                                 and when I open my mouth to echo back it sounds like this :

                                                                Fli

                                                                            Flove

                                                                                                Flou

Since We Were Little

Sharp like scissors you cut her with words.
Your anger strikes her, but softly,
 But to  me they are far worse than the excuse.
Silence is your only excuse.
Please, remember her brown curls and baby face when you to to put her in your place.
Friendship like this is hard to replace.
Your feet have walked far distances we cant see.
None of us are what we used to be.
Feel, and don't forget.
For, sometimes, words unsaid are what we regret.

Thread

He spins words like thread,
using them to sew lies,
which he wears as his cover.
But don't worry,
I wanted you to spin your words into lies
I could use as my cover.

Fingerprints

Your fingerprints are all around me, making it hard for me to see my own.
Like permanent scars they define us, written in words we don't understand.
I could follow your trail from my hips to my feet, caught around my ears, they drift across my nose.
My own can be traced to the place where confusion starts and stops.
Secrets lie in their curves.
Stronger than their definition is our desire.
Fingerprints.

Apologies like Hymns

Lingering touch, you know far too much to mean nothing.
Your words are fatal, sucking me into the middle, driving their implications into my thoughts.
Labeling movements, define our lies, making false truths.
I search for you in my anger, not looking far, knowing you are out of my reach.
Our apologies like hymns are recited everyday.
Like fire in brush, this all happens in a hush,

Winter Night

Winter night of delight, why do you deceive me.
As morning breaks, dawn takes my last regrets.
Setting sun, let things be done, let your words not forsake me.
Drifting dreams,rip at the seams.
Our lies drift from the skies.

Deceived

That's all I was fucking waiting for.
How sad is it that i can sum you up in 7 words. My words, the ones you find weak, were right.
My words the ones you block from your ears, are going to be ones you will seek. I don't expect anything less than anger. I question my motive as well. I question what it will get me. Maybe just the honestly I was never given. Stop  my words if you can, but most likely I will burn you because after all ' I am to you like fire to a tree.'

Proof

There are small imperfections in the way you move.
You have bent elbows that will not straighten, always looking for something to wrap around.
Your fingers will trace, across every line, and every place, but they don’t leave any marks.
There are hiccups in your speech, they leave gaping holes where you thoughts echo for no one to hear.
You step cautiously , your feet not quite hardened. They never seem quite as strong as they need to be to take you where you thing you belong.
Your eyes blink more than mine, releasing images you want left behind.
But your feet will take you where you belong. when you get there you won’t need to blink, you’ll close your eyes. Your thoughts wont echo, they will spill. And when you trace you’ll find the empty space of your bent elbow where only a few inches up there is proof you can’t deny.

Simply Put

                     Roses are red
         Violets are of a blueish hue
                  My love for you
                  Is forever anew
Please don't search, because you will find
      My love for you is forever blind

Incomplete

Incomplete is my love for you,
always longing for more to hold onto.
Incomplete is the way I see the world
so many corners , doors and windows not explored.
Incomplete is the way you smile,
lies told dancing across your lips.
Incomplete is the cold wind,
stalling the snow stealing the leaves.
Incomplete are my hands,
gaping holes between my fingers.
Incomplete is the night,
sleep lost on its journey.
Incomplete is this poem,
for your eyes may see it, but your heart will never know it.

She

Stretching so far to reach the end
Searching for what it is I have known
Knowing the moments I cant explain
Dreaming of far lazier days
Wishing things could be simpler
Wanting things never to change
Complexity echos her thoughts
Simple in ways she cant see
Quiet only to the mind
Loud to the the world
Still in the moment

Deeper

                         I cant lie anymore.

     I cant keep on telling myself that at any moment you're going to wake up and feel the way I do.
That secretly you need me on some level. That you have something with me you've never had with anyone else. Something deeper than your touch, or your kiss.
                     Something deeper than you poetry filled with your extensive vocabulary.
                     Something deeper than your disgust with me.
                     Something deeper than what i can see.

     I cant keep telling myself that I did love you, because what we had wasn't love. What we had were only heated moments. But I refuse to believe that we were never more than that. I can trace you back a year to long conversations on the phone,
                                          notes scribbled in class,
                                          movies watched only holding hands.

                              But i abjure letting  myself feel inferior because of you.

      I wont dwell on my hurt feelings, and I wont say that I'm not hurt. I may have stopped caring, but I haven't stopped feeling.  I will let myself feel the loss of a person I though I once knew,
       of the person I confided in the most,
       of the person who changed who i am...

                                                   ...I said I was done lying....

Tangled Words

Your words twist on the page
                     Tangling my thoughts

Your fingers tangled in mine
                     Twist the very definition of who we are

Define "us"
   
This may be the last word you have yet to master
                      Followed closely by love, living, and disaster

The Path

I waited for him that Fall. I stood right where he left me waiting for him to come back.
    The path pulled the leaves over it, preparing for the cold winter. I tried to remember what it looked like, your foot prints next to mine.
                               Spring came... you didn't.
     I waited as long as I could, wishing, hoping, praying that the words you whispered, that had long ago blown away in the wind had gotten caught in the trees. That the rain might bring them back to me.
     I held my breath every time a bring sung, not wanting to miss its song in case it was the one you sang to me.
     At nigh I laid under the stars watching them, the only witnesses . I wanted them to shine your name, point me in your direction, just replay me what they saw if that's all I could have .
     I touched the tree you first kissed me under, placing my hands, my fingers where yours were the last time you kissed me.
     I waited well into summer hoping that you just couldn't find the path, that new flowers and grass had grown over it , that the dry river we walked had filled...
             only to find the leaves changing again, the path covering, everything turning cold.