Gorgous As Could Be
Oh he was gorgous as could be. Seeing my silhouette in his eyes, feeling the breeze graze my white gown with life, and the kiss. The kiss every woman dreams about, wishing they had never woken. The kiss that elopes two and makes one love shatterproof.
This was our beginning, our bond, our everlasting companionship. We spent the rest of our days laughing. We spent the rest of our weeks running off and adventuring. We spent the rest of our months moving and making a place of our own. We spent the rest of our years starting a family. And, at last, we had our last breaths beside one another knowing this is the only life we would ever want to live.
You see, this is what I would have told my children. This is what I would have bragged about with my friends. This is the life I would have chosen over any other. But, I never had kids of my own. I never settled in and called one place home. I never explored and seen the world outside the one I grew up in. I never even laughed.
I lay here, coins over my eyes. Back aching from the stren wood I rest on. Lungs empty with no air to take in. And six feet of dirt to keep me in place.
He was gorgous as could be, but he was also more dangerous than ever. I made my mistake. I put myself into this grave. I married the man that put two bullets in my head. I never made it through my own honeymoon.
Love’s Death
Choice of words
Choice so obscure
Obscure mind
Obscure line
Line of sight
Line the sky
Sky that fell
Sky of poems
Poems for you
Poems that bled
Bled from soul
Bled for time
Time and laughter
Time well-spent
Spent so freely
Spent with you
You now busy
You now gone
Gone from me
Gone for good
Good things end
Good things die
Die like stars
Die so dark
Dark with despair
Dark falls over
Over my love
Over my spell
Spell is broken
Spell went wrong
Wrong was financed
Wrong plus tax
Tax my patience
Tax my effort
Effort so earnest
Effort was wasted
Wasted rough drafts
Wasted tears
Tears that choke
Tears that stain
Stain the memory
Stain the sheets
Sheets can strangle
Sheets that cover
Cover with soil
Cover a grave
Grave of love
Grave that's haunted
Haunted
Love
Numbers the By
Numbers the By
At 10pm, I left for good.
At 9pm, we took a break. I stood outside in the light rain. She continued the argument, alone, in the kitchen. She broke a few dishes, cursed my name, and took a knife to our honeymoon photo.
At 8pm, She wanted me gone. She wanted me to remain. She wanted her pound of flesh. She wanted every drop of my blood. By this time, I had no recourse. I exhausted all of the reasons, without a single one holding fast.
At 6pm, we began the shouting match. What I did was wrong. What she did was equally wrong. Why either one of us knew what the other did was pure happenstance. Both of us claimed the moral high ground that neither of us were qualified to stand. My remorse for my actions surpassed my anger for hers. By her tone, I understood she held an opposite position.
At 5pm, the pizza delivery guy arrived. I paid for and tipped him for his service. The box seemed a little on the light side. None-the-less, I set our dinner on the table. She opened the box and wished she hadn’t. It contained a series of color photos of my last affair with her sister and my wife’s affair with my cousin. Needless to say, somebody has a flair for the dramatic.
At Noon, I asked her to leave because I had to clean the apartment before my wife returned from her business trip. She told me I should have a backbone and tell her our marriage was over. As much as I wanted the beautiful creature laying naked on the silk sheets, I wanted less drama in my life more. She knew what I was about to say. I knew she knew. Her departure coincided with one last kiss and the ominous whisper of a warning of events yet to come.
One week ago, my cousin arrived in his new convertible to pick up my wife for their conference in Vegas on Monday. I asked her why she did not fly out on Sunday for she already had the tickets. She told me she wanted to experience the drive across the desert while she had the chance. I should have known better as I bid them well, but I had other events on my mind and my calendar for the weekend suddenly opened up.
Dreamer’s Flower
In a garden that blooms, fair and bright, where various life,
small and great, reside,
there stands a flower that outshines the glow of the moon, by a mile and by far.
With petals of lavender, and a center of gold, this flower's magnificence is a sight to behold, purple in all its glory, splendor and royal robes.
It grows in the shade of an ancient tree, where leaves dance and sing with glee. Its scent is sweet, like a honey kiss,
and its nectar is said to grant you lovely dreams.
It is called the "Dreamer's Flower" by name, one of the prettiest things around. Whisperers say the beholder's eyes will be blessed and they
will remember its name, face, shape, even the sound.
For it has the power to make dreams sprout and grow; flower
with a single touch, of the hand.
Its leaves are soft, like a butterfly's wings, and they tell of a world of their own, that most humans have never trod. This flower's beauty is beyond compare, unique is its wonder and gown. For in this world of fantasy and dreams, it's the most precious flower.