Tag Archives: friendship

14 February 2015

‘To friends,
separated by country, time, and age –
by life and war and the in-betweens –
If I ever once loved you ago, I love you now.
How easily words slay the air, but trust that the weights
they hold are most ardently true.
I think of you now and the impact of
your worth, however minute, caused and
bruised my existence into being. How much
I owe to you nameless you, to never be fully repaid
except by promises to always be beside you,
if not in body, but then by mind and grace.’


Summer Song of Sin

Last call of
summer songs of sin.
The single night where
the show leads me nowhere
to begin except to the
roaring silence streets.

There are the memories
I will forget, no doubt,
and recall with loud
rings of -When and -Where
and -Tell me when this
happened, again.

This night goes no further than
the start. A stalled car neath
the amber light, turned green
once more the streets meet
with yells of swan songs of
yet occurred escape.

The age but slight,
te wind but still.
Do these screams evade
forgotten lines of roads
once trodden? Or do
they fall into the new
pavemented, cemented
homes of steel?

Disappearing into
the call, the car and I share
no membrance at -How or
-When they fall.

Limited Nights

I keep having dreams about the people I used to meet.
Of the people I loved and the hopes we dreamed.
Never falling in love easily has been a trait of mine,
but last year was a time when it seemed that
everyone I met impaled my mind and twisted a form
upon my fate.

I think I only dream when I’m in love,
and these past few nights, the dreams
have come and stayed, imprinting their
impressions of something once great.

But how those days ended so swift,
and the longing of home to end quick.

To the last one I said goodbye to –

You were never that kind to me,
except in your own little ways.
But still I followed you down
and tried to befriend you just the same.

To wonder who you reminded me of,
to wonder why I mimicked your stance,
to wonder why you gave me a chance –
some things I’ll never find.

Why did you leave the North of town?
What is it that you left?
I’m sorry, regardless, for reasons that keep you from returning.

So here we go,
the past keeps turning ‘fore me.
So here we go, once again I am presuming.

The last words that you said to me,
before I boarded flight,
Your last words to me were, you said –
‘Good luck on your writing.
And if you ever come back, we’ll still be all right here.’

Motionless except my sway,
I’m sorry for the bother.
I’m sorry for the life you fled,
for me not being something stronger.

To wonder what you saw in me,
to inspire such action strong,
but regardless of the thoughts
that brought our spheres a circling,
I’m sorry that I couldn’t match them.