linen

i had
to change the bed;

the sheets
looked too empty
without you.

the audacity of hope

i.

after taking
the first step
(dreaming together in
wide arcs and
fanciful possibilities),
we crafted a brief reality
filled with long kisses and
sweet smiles.

ii.

i'm at a loss
to describe what i felt
and what i'm feeling.

but i know the words
i long to hear you say
and what i'd do
to be worthy of them.

goodbye, again

i dreamt they all came back to me: a beautiful, shining composite of the best of each of them...

we glanced, flirted, then entered into a deep kiss, overjoyed to love without the harsh details. the vision faded without a clear end or resolution.

whether or not we meet again, i'm grateful to have known you...

i have been a rover
i have walked alone
hiked a hundred highways
never found a home
still in all i'm happy
the reason is, you see
once in a while along the way
love's been good to me...
~nina simone (via rod mckuen)

this moment

releasing the love that didn't happen
to embrace the loves that can.

obrigado

i've become
so proficient
at drawing my shutters
that i hope,
one day,
i can make him understand
how magickal it is
that he can reopen my heart
with a few words
or a smile
as i sit,
exhausted,
hammer, nails and plywood
still in hand.

in passing...

returning from a visit to see mother, i wandered by a tree with very unusual leaves.

its roots were twisted and tangled and seemed a little bunched up, all but straining to respect the boundary of the sidewalk.

(i can only assume they weren't happy when it was built, but have since resigned themselves to the exchange: a little bondage, to live)

i thought, "hello. i've never seen a tree like you before..."

i sensed a faint but audible reply: "few who pass here think those thoughts or speak to me..."

that nearly stopped me cold, but i had to move on. still, i took a moment to send it some loving energy.

next time i walk that way, i'll stay awhile.