A Kindling Soul

As much as I would like for it not to be My mind, it relives an odd history.  Businesses unfinished, irrelevant, futile, Questions unanswered, ignored, inutile. Monsters forgotten, with a steady grip, hold on. Hues of green still bring unsettling alarm.  Art and words that once caused a sweet commotion Now fill my heart with doubt - and no other emotion.  Empty fields, an uninhabited sky,  Still burn with memories - of those days, those eyes.  Scars of thorns that once punctured my soul, Trust once tested,  left only shreds to condole.  What yesterday was malfeasance, today is wistful yore. It all seems golden, not as grey as before.  The stairs, the pallet, the quad, the verdure The past has, somehow, my mind immured. Detaching from bygones shouldn’t be such a mystery  Disentanglement from who I once was shouldn’t need such artistry  The pain is gone, and lust forlorn, what’s keeping this wicked connection? How can concord be losing to ...

Let’s talk about the sun setting this eve, Or how the stars in the night sky bleed The lights that dance and drown In waters still, untouched, unfound.  Or those eyes, oh, that mahogany hellfire  Piercing, untamed; an arctic pyre. Of breaking hearts and true loves lost.  The chances missed, those stray thoughts.  Let’s talk about death and dreams, And evaluate the futures unseen.  Of detachment borne of distance  That somehow melts in an instance. About games played, beyond recollection  Enchantment eclipsed with inattention. Eskimos and boxes, and rules unreasonable Blowers, and daughters and volcanoes unbeatable.  Let’s talk about truths, and maybe about the rumble; Of words unsaid, and memories that are now jumbled.  How the smoke somehow veils the raw actuality, How easily we give in to instincts trifled with morality.  But with this dalliance obscured in pompous utterances Unvoiced musings...

Winters were always her favorite. The cool winds, the small days, The silent nights, And the sun tucked away. A steamy cup, cupped in her hands, Dancing, oh, the aromas of coffee Break of dawn, or end of day? The warmth emanating through her body. Snow always fascinated her How it fell, and covered all in her sight, Every flake so different, Yet making all alike. Each streetlight accessorized, By the flurry, that hurries by, In the calm, that is a winter’s night, There is nothing too hard to hide. Not sure when this adoration Diffused into her actuality; How everything just seemed To embody this deep duality. The long nights, and endless daze Icy hearts, and cold, long stares, Nothing cuts through this reticent exchange. Stinging truths, hidden with flair. Winter had been her favorite, The icy chill, the endless nights, The muffled days, Devoid of life, deprived of light. x

There is something raw in me That comes alive, When you come. There is artwork in my skin Colored and some,  And a soul undone. There is halcyon surrounding me Yet every touch, every gaze, Sets me ablaze. There is music, there is smoke,  A suggestion,  And a cloak. There is stealth in your brightness,  There is grey in your light,  And I, in your sight.  There is warmth in your apathy,  Burning desire,  A blue, brash bonfire. There is a dream in my heart Hidden, abstruse, Must you always be obtuse?

Obscured by light, Covered by smoke, Fancies and overdue-sighs Cloaked hands evoke Stuck between two hard places, A wall, unmoving And another, abrading. Confusing, abusing. Sheet between her teeth Hair sprawled about. Nails digging in, deep. Objectionable, each sound. A lonesome tear glistened In an unlit room Closed eyes didn’t hinder vision, Each instinct else consumed. Skin and lace, Entwined, intimate. Like fingers, and lips, And each sultry breath. They came and left, And came again. The ticking clock rang, All disappeared but pain.

As she stands at the corner Of a lake, Ever so slightly frozen, The stillness of the water Resonates with a distant memory. The building that stands in front of her Is reflected, distorted, In the lake that separates them. A quiet, unmoving body, Staring, at another. The clamour of her thoughts Fermenting, festering, Rang out in the placid silence Impregnating the stagnant, Disconsolate lull that surrounded her. When the pandemonium in her head Began seeping out, The air around her vibrated As slowly, each tear rolled out Every breath lingered longer. Her heartbeat began to fill the space Thumping, thrashing, Lamenting for air, Uncontrollable, without a respite, As something broke inside of her. She fell to her knees, Rustling the leaves Dry, brown, under her feet As a ripple rose in the lake, Brought to life by her tears. Her agitated reflection, blurred And grew. As the evening fell, once again, A quiet, unmoving body Stared at another.

I wish I'd meant something to you; But each day that passes  Shows me  That I didn't. Not even the electric friction That our skins conjured Under the open sky And the yellow light. Not even the clandestine stairwell That reeked of lust Of you, of me Of us. Oh, delight! Did nothing mean anything? At all? Ever? I wish I'd had the courage to speak; Speak up, speak out, Or maybe, Just ask. Why those half kohled eyes Captured your attention Amidst an ocean Of tactile allure? Why the restrictions faded When the night sky fell And the prying eye shut And all seemed obscure? Would you have answered? At all? Ever? I wish I knew how to rid myself Of this hold you have Over me Even now. Of the miles between us, Of the charm that penetrates them And this unfinished business, Unuttered. Of the trust that we tested And the grips of the monster Still clutching each nerve Unfluttered. Can we let go? At all? Ever?