Easy to love

So easy to love, 

they all said of her,

A smile so bright, 

Worries and fears soon blur.

The twinkle in her eyes -

almost ever present,

Clever, and quick, 

She is effervescent.

Comforting words, 

soft and sincere,

The darkest clouds,

in her presence, disappear.

Pretty easy to love, 

she mused to herself,

Just a soft touch, or a kind word,

For her diffidence to dispel.

All her heart desired were some little things,

A written word, a stolen glance, maybe some paper rings

A warm caress on a chilly night,

A whispered "I’m here" 

in the dim light.

Every coup d'œil, every forehead kiss,

Every breath shared

Turned into her bliss.

Too easy to love, 

Too quick, they murmured low,

As the toll of her love begins to show.

Quick to trust, 

quicker to fall.

Plunging headfirst, 

always giving her all.

Beguiled, betrayed, 

And broken, thereof

How arduous it is,

To be easy to love.

Breaking free

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 some retired, unrequited affection?

Let’s talk, shall we?

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 do become common occurrences.

So let’s talk, shall we, about this secrecy we’ve embraced,

Of the rapture that disdain still hasn’t erased. 

Snowflakes

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

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?

Skin and lace

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.

Reflections

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.