Stealing Summer's Breath

You could taste the wine in her words,

the eerie red that dripped from the upward inflection

at the end of every sentence. 

Her eyes were tired and hung lower

than her standards, and her lashes fell

with every blink. A trail of lost wishes,

I guess, tracked behind her every limped 

footstep. She was broken at best, her

record scratched and the needle 

a death wish. She sat alone on

a cobblestone bench, her cobblestone

feet wrapped around its cobblestone legs.

She smelt of roses and a plastic rosary

fresh from the wrappings,

and oh did I love the way the sun kissed

her swollen cheeks. A gentle peck

for every fingernail chewed,

and a wet and unkempt slobber for

every text sent. I watched from afar

as she hung over her knees, coughing

up pleas to settle her sickness and

find a few bars of service to call the

right person(s) to keep her clean.

Aye, what a delight it was,

to see what beauty could be 

when left out to dry

in a Central Park dream.

My heart will follow

the thoughts that leave

my lips to touch another’s.

Across the bridge of my

tongue he waltzes,

down the aisle to another day.

With every shade of red

passed from cheek to cheek,

another love of mine,

to be captured and soon released.

little nibbles at a time.

I can’t wait to start peeling.

She laid 

back pressed to the sand

as if to hear the 

crabs whisper beneath.

The summer’s empty sheen

danced across her khaki skin,

dried by the empty gaze of the sun.

The ocean’s mists and faintest breeze

couldn’t help but look twice,

as not herself but 

her smile burned wildly down

the beach.

And every pair of wooden knees 

buckled beneath her gaze.

I stood, as still as the air

in awe.

And between the time that

lapsed between each

blink of my eye and

the moment she wrote her

phone number on a used napkin

saw the earth spin a couple

hundred times, the sun open and

close her eyes,

and the waves awake and

reclaim the beach.

Safe to say by the time

I’d gotten close enough

to bask in the heat that emanated 

from her beauteous daze,

I awoke in my old age.

I’ve no thoughts,

no mind, even.

No thoughts worth 

a single ounce 

of breath that it’d

take to say.

So until my mind

churns out something

worth keeping,

my pen will be peaceful

and rest easy.

I will wait until the sun’s

eyes fold back and the smile

hung high fades,

before I pick up this 

damned pen again.

If I could give you

one more breath,

I wonder what you’d say.

Would it be a thank you,

or would you wish for another

day?

Sometimes I question,

did you ever mean to go?

Before your wings had grown

before you touched the earth,

before you knew yourself?

Did you regret stepping

into another world,

or did you never know

how far you were about to go?

I just can’t bring myself to believe

that you meant to leave

so…quickly.

As the air passes through

the hole high in my heart, 

it whistles the tune of your

voice, gently and lazily

hummed to its idle beat.

On either end

of a lie lay I,

undisturbed and

still,

staring down the curves

of the line from

one stretch of life to the next.

Into my own eyes I stare,

though the space between is blurred.

Death is but a temporary hindrance

meant to break the glare of each world.

Stare too long into yourself,

and you’ll notice everyone else.

I folded a thousand words

into a single kiss

and sent it on its way.

By the wind it’s carried

and in the wind it’ll stay.

Though I hope you receive

the gift I’ve sent you today,

I do say I wouldn’t mind

if it swirls around you,

if only for a while,

if only for the rest of time.

So the moment a swell of air

neither chilled nor stale,

but far from wet and fiery,

lands upon your cheek,

may you smile widely

and proudly, knowing

that wisp was from me.

Cacophonous thoughts drown

out the melody of the stars;

the symphony of the universe

softly cooed behind the clutter

of humanity. But as silence

falls heavily upon

the eyes and mouth, the

ears may sort the sounds

of the sun speaking to herself;

the whisper of truth between

the craze of life.

I’ve no dreams to take,

love,

by night I lay awake.

My sun may ne’er find

her way to sleep but by sleep

she finds her way to me.

And so I am pleased to know

that the brightest star

in my too bright a sky 

is you; this inconvenient fluorescence 

of mine,

reaching 8 minutes past

your prime to pull

my eyelids together

and pry my lips apart.

I idle by

as the ebbs and flows

of life drag the current along.

Just above the waterline 

I rest, the ripples

passing by me with

each white face smiling.

The river carries on,

I remain.

The river carries on,

my heart is still.

Though dead I certainly 

am not,

I yearn to live no more.

To simply be is what

I shall be,

content and still

among the waves,

a rock embedded in the sands.