I Had Planned On Being Angry

All your muses come and go,
Like flowers in a kitchen vase,
Changing with your fickle taste
For something bold or droll or chaste
To inspire florid words to flow.

Fiery locks or ocean eyes
Hearkening your tender heart
To piece together formless art.
And all these phrases you impart
To her, to hear her lovers' sighs.

And when her presence fails to evoke
Your pretty speech and fancy lies,
You send her on through dismal skies,
Ice cream melts before her eyes,
And she recalls each word you spoke.

You are broken and you are whole,
The lover of beauty so surreal,
The dreamer of things one cannot feel,
The player of hands one would not deal.
You are the artist of the soul.

An Unlikely Future

It could have been
Long talks in back alley cafes
And running in between the raindrops
All the way home.
The way you would grab my hand
Subconsciously
And I would cross the street
Without looking.

It could have been
Cereal for supper and a mattress on the floor
Saving all our money for coffee
And second-hand books.
The way you would look at me
Like you couldn't believe it was real
When we woke
In each others arms.

It could have been
Dancing in the dark
When the power went out
And splurging on a Broadway play.
The way you would buy me
That vintage dress
And tell me
"You look ravishing, darling."

It could have been
Eating at Thai restaraunts
And perusing modern art exhibits
When we had time away from our studies.
The way you would lightly brush my hand
Under the table
And give me a wink and a smile
In that way you do.

It could have been
Moonlit walks in Central Park
And hearing the New Years countdown in Times Square
As we sipped wine on a balcony with good friends.
The way you would make a show
Of kissing me at midnight
And all our friends would sigh
But you never noticed.

And so much more.
It could have been.

Old Emotion

*I wrote this...over a year ago but I just thought I'd post it anyway because I ran across it*

Like a line from a song
You made your way into my abstract thoughts,
An uncertainty that terrified my heart
But truth staring me blatantly in the eye.

And what is it that I long for
More than heaven’s mercy
But truth.
To discover such a surreal treasure
In one pair of enthralling, emerald eyes
Must truly be amazing grace.

Just when my notions of enchantment
Were written off to frivolous fairy tales
And my concepts of an unparalleled bliss
Crushed by constant rejection,
An unknown ecstasy presented itself,
A poetic masterpiece of captivation and awe,
An ethereal inspiration that was long in coming
But well worth the wait.

Passions run high
As ebony entertains my nocturnal senses,
Reminiscent of midnights passed,
Yet how appropriate: the witching hour.
And I, spellbound beyond all sanity and reason.

I should be alarmed
But rapture prevails
And the fall into euphoria
Satisfies even my greatest desires.

Your kisses seem to pulse through my veins
Until they attain my heart
With the most blessed assurance I have ever known.
Somehow, your whimsical yet genuine words
Are unnecessarily perfected by the moment.
To live in this moment, this second, forever
Would be unsurpassed jubilation.

I’m aware that I am inanely selfish in this guilty pleasure,
Stealing your being and your very essence
From so many who deserve it more than I.

Somehow though, this all feels…
As it should be.
Something so memorable about these arms encircling my waist,
Yet fresh and exhilarating
As if this instant continues from another life, another heaven.

Now reunited after light years have passed
Between our wandering spirits,
We treat the time at hand
As an otherworldly yet indisputable destiny.

These emotions,
Like the beguiling clouds in a drunken sky,
Filled to overflowing with welcome tears from above.
And finally the heavens open
And the skies flash with fate.
Finally sweet rain pours down our passion and ardor,
And oh how I have always loved getting caught in the downpour with you.

Now the zeal rushes over me
As water droplets cling to my lashes
And I hear your breath softly in my ear,
A promise of always having some one to run to.

The security of this second
Is perfect.
Incomparable
To any lifetime before or after.

Suddenly, with perplexing lucidity
I hear the truth that I saw in those emerald eyes
So many times before
“I’m going to be the one to save you.”

Thank you for smoking

Phone calls at 2 in the morning
When you'd had too much to drink
You sound so cute when you're slurring your speech
Words never cut so deep.

Secret pleasure came
In being needed by you.
The only two people in the city still up
Connected by a phone line and a similar age.
But that was all.
Oh the night is always the right time for us.

Barefeet on the wet concrete
2007 here we come.
Cheering the year in the moonlight
Beers in hand and a breeze in the air
I never felt so free
You really did look charming in your tux.
My band T and jeans a sharp contrast
A tangible example of our different worlds.

Could we talk in my car for awhile?
Of course.
It was getting chilly anyway.
California dreaming and sharing more than was intended
Each unanswered ring of your phone
A silent victory for me.
Take off that ridiculous hat before they see you.

Could you call me tonite?
Why not.
I crave being needed
Even for something this trivial.
Yes, the exponent is outside of the parentheses
And by the way
How was prom?
Our casual conversations like a long-awaited cup of coffee.

Could I give you a ride home?
I suppose.
Your critique of my driving was worth the extra gas.
Windows down, music up
Or was that voices?

Could you smoke out the window?
Sure.
We'll have to stop for a lighter.
But the image of you in the passenger seat,
Cigarette in hand,
Blowing smoke into the wind,
And laughing at the people beside us
In that way you do.
Well-worth the trouble,
The rush, and the tardiness.

I must say,
Thank you for smoking.

I doubt I will even write on here that often but I thought that maybe having a place to put my thoughts would encourage me to write them down more.