Tags
abandonment, Alexander Frost, alone, author, birthday, blame, break-up, broken, commitment, creative, depression, development, devotion, dreams, fiction, form, girls, heartbreak, hope, literature, loneliness, longing, Love, Love Anchor, love at first sight, lovers, meaning, memory, meter, missed, non-fiction, outlook, poem, poet, poetic, poetry, relationships, release, romance, romantic, self-improvement, sex, sexual, structure, sunset, time, uncertainty, unspoken, verse, women, words, writer, writing
I
‘Tick-tock’- the hands of the clock cruelly sound
Like a blade held against the whetting stone
Each second seems some new spark now rising,
Vaguely phosphorescent, disappearing
Like souls passing into infinity
Striking the hearthstone, then- into nothing
Streetside the scarlet-colored cyclamens
Sway with the weight of the wind’s warm whispers
While the slow fall of the night’s first fireflies
So strangely flickers in the vast expanse
Of the ever-darkening western sky,
Flitting like your recently struck match heads,
Blooming, instantaneously beyond
The pale recognition of their blossoms-
Those freshly plucked petals, faintly falling,
Lingering like fingers of heat lightning
Surrounding you in a velveteen gale
Darkness creeps in like a quiet lover
To brush away the pale blush of blue sky,
The delicate cobwebs of the last clouds-
White fluff, intricately woven with jewels,
Where each star hangs like a frail drop of dew
Encroaching night whispers a wine-dark flush
Along the expanse of the horizon,
Kisses the day into unconsciousness
(All is enveloped in this quietness
While we hold our breath for the moon to rise)
II
I get so god-damned depressed when I drink
That sometimes I could just drop dead, except
There is something hidden in your sly smile
And the way you dance makes me feel relieved
Just to know you are breathing I suppose
(Although a hundred pairs of hungry eyes-
Lights dimmed by the virtue of drunkenness-
Stare straight through me to steal a glimpse of you,
To somehow satiate their cold desires)
And there are of course your glimmering eyes,
Glinting with the mischievousness of drink
Your body sways like the hypnotists chain
So I stand transfixed, tapping out the beat
With my free hand as the band rambles on
(The other is still tight against your hip-
Two fingers through the belt loop of your jeans)
As I watch you sip your whiskey and coke
And smoke cigarette after cigarette,
The blue haze of your exhalations hangs
In relief against the late-summer sky,
Each breath falling like boats in a harbor
Rising again with each whim of the waves
Ebbing to and fro amidst the moonlight
Floating me headlong into elation
(My heart swells up like a birthday balloon)
(This somnambulist strains his tired eyes,
Opening them like a revelation:
I know that I shall spend my future days
Waiting to climb into bed beside you
Dreaming only of the way you would kiss)