Oil and Water

It once ran strong - coursing, pulsating, breathing, alive through his veins - the steady pulse only quickened by the occasional brush of her arm against his. She always pulled away sharply, as roses bloomed at her cheeks. It was his favorite picture of her.

They only had one song, but it didn't seem to matter. They could always change the words, or perhaps discover a delightful harmony. If he held her hand, she would fold secrets of creation into them - honest love notes written in simplicity. They were inspiring, refreshing, wide-eyed and beautiful - just like her.

And as the first flakes of snow boldly announced Winter's imminent arrival, his lips became acquainted with hers beneath a canopy of trees - naked branches their only witnesses.

She would always think with her heart, but rationale was neither his forte. So they fell fast, blind but laughing, his callused fingers wrapped tightly around her delicate own, forgetting to remember sometimes fate holds an ending other than "happily ever after".

...

It runs thick, like oil - black, like tar. Tendrils of smoke form dirty clouds, choking the roses in her blushing cheeks - the picture once held so dear, now smudged and blackened to unrecognizable. Her tears carve hesitant paths through the muddy grey, but they fall mute, directionless. The path through the glass is old and marked with endless journeys, all incomplete, their explorers whispering final prayers as hope bleeds into the thirsty, cracked earth.

But she desires naked branches and heart-shaped leaves. Blushing ambitions and a single soundtrack to usher in sleep. She wishes for his blood to run clear, a pulsing river through his veins - the sound, a rushing waterfall carving assured paths through mountains.

Then: she will take his hand, fade scars with a kiss. And they will find a new song to sing - their harmony, a waterfall.

"nature's got a heart shape"

The leaves act like birds

Painted on the sidewalk

Caught in misshapen captive flight

The pebbles freeze

in a dewy curtain

Remembering how they once fell like rain

The mist takes shape

Clouding our reflection

Inking perfect vignettes 'round our shining faces

spring

side by side in a nest of clever complications are we
branches disguised as loving arms hem us in, keep us within
but for mine own, they unearth views while crafting windows
for my eyes to seek, my heart to soar, my self to follow

finding peace

they call her artist
but her favorite works she'll never tell
loving strokes caress the canvas
hugging curves like secrets
pull down the curtains
and put on a smile
she'll go back tomorrow
silence screaming with whispers

carving rivers through clouds
to wake up stronger with the sun

autumn

Today, the first taste of autumn - the second most glorious day of the year (only bested by the first sweet taste of spring).  The trees are ablaze with all the colors of the sun, and the air carries an edge that makes one feel alive with each felt breath.

By the lake there is a path lined with trees.  And at the bend which unfolds to reveal the point where sky and water meet, she walks amongst the trees of gold.  Her hands greet their broad, wise trunks with the touch of her fingertips.

A lone leaf falls like grace into her waiting palm.  She studies its burnt reds and crisply delicate edges.  She cups her hands around its fragile frame and she cries for she cannot make it right.

studies

losing myself in lyrics
to find myself in clarity
taste-testing semantics
suffice it to gravity

free falling

remember the days
when we would stay up all night
whispering secrets
beneath a canopy of green
when we would wake holding hands
the early dawn belonged to us
and to us alone
when we would sit for hours
losing ourselves in verses
finding ourselves in lyrics we learned to love

write our names in the sky
free falling we fly

vignette

every cloud has a silver lining
and all silver will one day tarnish
as copper loses its will to oxidation - its shiny surface turning green and dusted.
and it brings me back to the third grade. mrs melbourn was my favorite teacher, ali gibbons was my best friend, and i had a crush on robbie - the aspiring actor who sat one row down two seats ahead of me. we had a visitor in class, we watched a movie with little animated dinosaurs and giant molars, we received free toothbrushes and bubblegum flavored floss, and alex curtis was the lucky kid who got permission from the teacher to not brush his teeth and chew the pink tablet and grin for us all to see. i still remember the dirty pink that clung to his teeth, a reminder that some kinds of dirt are invisible.
and i think of how just yesterday we sat together and laughed.
and we were so in love, we didn't even realize it was raining.

pink

and i'll listen to our song
and smile cuz you told me to

while secret love notes
settle into their
familiar creases
soft edges
and faded ink
worn in all the right places

press it close
it smells of me
and i'll hold your tear
forever in the palm of my hand

i'll be sky

play me a song
our favorite one
we'll dance the way we used to
sideways in a sea of green

the sunrise slips us secrets
with your touch, they're fading
memories waning
your voice left singing

so lets dance one last dance
set these memories alight
a breath to forget
send them into the night

music our tie

a loss of awareness
as time stood still
one glassy-eyed dove
at the windowsill
of a bleached-out
blanked-out
window into
what used to be me
and what used to be
you

spiral eternal
the stairs climb upwards
our two souls trapped
soaring upwards forever

familiarity

dark notes scribbled on a page
crossed off
crumpled up
thrown out
and built back up
the notes fall between the lines
off the page
for your voice to catch
it breathes familiarity
and i smile at the tune
with eyes shining
heart held
constricted

you played our song
i would give anything to sing along

eyes wide shut

spinning spinning spinning
beautiful and broken
broken but beautiful
chaotic oblivion
rushing running dancing to
[the end]
of which there is none
a kaleidoscope of colors
explosion of the stars
dizzy and reeling
please. stop.

just don't

we’re grasping at whispers
they’re slipping away
and the pieces are falling all round our heads
as you stare straight ahead
your words mean nothing and everything
the record is scratched
it replays the end the end the end
i wish i could replay the start
i press stop
and the whispers obey

love story

a lone novel &
a deserted - but lovely - field of wildflowers
the pages of the past are old and worn
watermarked with silent tears

endless chapters suggest
immeasurable years - reaching back through time's loosened grip
an eternity of missed chances and opportunities lost
timing was never on our side


but now we're coming to the end
the final few pages are yet to be written

my hand is shaking







lets dream some more

for katie

her hand moves in steady strokes across the canvas
rolled up sleeves
a soft brown curl escapes and is brushed impatiently aside
leaving a red smear across her forehead
elbow deep in paint
her brush held delicately
between finger and thumb
comfortable from years of being held
just like this
as she adds the perfect final touches
to her masterpiece

a smile as she turns at the sound of a voice
her daddy is calling her home

"but daddy i dont want to go"

but it is her time
and he will teach her how to paint sunsets and thunderstorms

the sky will be her canvas
the heavens, her playground

leaving behind
her brushes her paints
the masterpiece that is her beautiful life
and the indelible imprint of her smile in my mind

he is calling her home
and so she comes
running. dancing. laughing.

into her Father's arms



for Katherine Rachelle Vaudrey
February 4, 1989 - June 2, 2008.

i cry

i cry when i see their beautiful eyes
sparkling from beneath layers of dirt and grime
and poverty and pain that they have yet to grow into
but for now:
he flashes a gap-toothed grin at my camera
she braids and twists and curls my hair
and they take my hands
& wipe away my tears with their contagious laughter

blue eyes

Setting: that little cafe we both used to enjoy
though we both only pretended to enjoy
coffee. The smell of it permeates the air,
mingling with the constant chitter-chatter,

of hearts becoming one.
Filling the small confines of,
that little cafe we both used to enjoy.
And you,

you who were once my love,
though perhaps we were too young for love
in a time when we were naive enough to love
the security and sophistication in saying the words, "I love

you. You enter the scene,
and I must once again familiarize myself
with the task of forgetting how it once was.

"Hello", you say. And the charade begins.

Something so toxic can hardly be right,
but the blue in your eyes takes me to past heights.

So i keep my eyes fixed on the table. the floor.
anywhere, but where your frozen blue meet my longing own;
Working like an elixir to make me tell the truth.
And it takes all inside me to hold myself back;
This facade hides the fact that i'm all but relaxed.

For it's taken some time for me to learn,
i must fix my eyes where yours are sure not to return

something so toxic can hardly be right
but the blue in your eyes takes me to past heights


im just trying to make sense of the present tense