Soft Heart Magic

It exists in the space between heart beats.

In shadows of trees on the sidewalk.

In the moment after the flash

and before the thunder.

In the distance between the words,

I            love              you.

It hovers between joy and heartache.

It flows through memories of

Now and then, here and gone, alive and not.

But it never dies, just changes it shape

To fit the time

The place,

The broken heart.

You Didn’t

 

You were just a symbol.

A representation of what I wanted,

But in my mind only.

You couldn’t be who you were not.

Not your fault, but you wouldn’t even try.

But then, you didn’t expect my love, did you…

Its depth was frightening.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

You didn’t want to know.

You couldn’t understand.

But even if you could have,

You didn’t.

No Choice

I must have loved you.

to do what I did,

to be someone I’m not,

to follow,

to stay.

I changed,

but only on the surface.

You must have loved me too…

To make me feel the way you did…

Right?

You must have…

Maybe you didn’t…

I guess you didn’t…

But you had a choice,

I didn’t.

What would I Do?

They are out there.

The names and faces are different but the same.

Am I any different?

We are all wanting, waiting, hoping.

Is it worth it? To set ourselves up just to fail?

I have chosen dreams that remain only that, just chosen dreams.

But what If I actually caught one and made it real?

What in the world would I do with it all?

The Missing Piece

Doesn’t she know?

How could she not.

Doesn’t she feel it,

Doesn’t she notice that piece of him that has gone missing,

again?

And where does it go,

where does he take it and

who does he give it to?

Does she know?

I guess not, but I know.

It isn’t lost or misplaced.

I have captured it.

I hold that missing and best part of him.

The part that she is missing.

The part he gives only to me.

The pieces of him that I can’t have are far greater than the one she misses,

but at least I know what to name it.

Next Life

Is is me who I grieve for.

My heart and soul wait

anticipating it all to be as I want, but

I chose you, unwisely.

Why cant you be more, be what I want?

All of you, the collective you too.

But it is only me,

smothering in want and need.

Occasionally the sun breaks through but only to be swallowed by the sea, again.

Will it rise tomorrow?

Maybe not.

It is all slipping away,

It is almost over.

Until next time,

love,

next life.

Without You

It is all in my head.

I know its a lot to expect but

why can’t you just be the man I imagine you to be?

In my deepest, darkest hours, you still shine through

But only in my dreams is it the you I want you to be.

Is that too much to ask?

The holding and passion is only a play,

playing us off each other.

Yet our connection, the deep and lasting one, remains in my mind only and

unfortunately,

I have gone there without you,

again.

Misplaced

Waterfalls of silence

flood my senses and heart.

It is too hard and too soft at the same time.

Smokey shadows of what could have been linger.

“If only” echos across my senses

alone to exist in the perpetual in-between.

Only a thought, a glimpse of there and then.

Not here and now.

Passion, mine,

misplaced and misunderstood remains

quiet and sleepy now,

All consuming,

Silently alone.

Too Late

It’s too late now.

No point in trying to start over.

It is back.

Same but different.

I feel like I’m waiting.

Waiting for life to pass as children do when they play games

killing time to grow up.

Except,

I’m killing time to die.

But it’s not a sad state.

It feels normal.

A part of the progression of life.

Moving toward the end,

is smooth and well… it’s okay.

I feel sometimes like time has stopped.

My quest for life’s riches has ceased to be important and, in its place,

is a quiet resignation, a comfort.

Gratitude fills me with the knowing that all is as it should be.

There truly is a time for every purpose under heaven…

Always Over

Everything is always over.

It isn’t here and now,

its there and then.

The window shade is crooked,

driving me crazy.

Its never over until I fix it.

The trip is over,

It was and now isn’t.

If there is no memory of the doing,

did it happen?

It isn’t here or now,

or there or then.

It just isn’t,

Or is it?