“She says “If I leave before you, darling,
don’t you waste me in the ground”.
I lay smiling like our sleeping children,
one of us will die inside these arms.”
The Next Chapter
We peel back the lines,
of some long forgotten sentence,
as if it were the unraveling,
of an orange sweet and ripe,
just a second shy from falling to the ground.
You hand me a half-moon smile of a piece,
that I slip between pursed lips,
the sudden shock of bittersweet,
turning my tongue to a tang tinged alert.
I laugh a bit,
my eyes watering up into what could be mistaken,
You touch my cheek softly,
brushing chilled skin,
and glance across the alley,
where the sudden sparks are from,
shooting up high into the night.
I wonder if you are searching,
for cue card direction,
some sort of sign from the studio audience,
because some days it surely seemed,
that I needed the approval of the masses,
more than I needed you.
it was the nature of,
that drive and desire,
glue stuck to me,
ever since I was a child of five,
setting toys across the grass,
pleading with wordless conviction,
for someone to notice me;
for a sign that I was wanted.
But, I am far from the Hee Haw overalls,
and jungle gym calloused hands,
of a far past 1973 late Summer afternoon.
This story tale time in-between,
is nothing like a final happy ever after.
Because it takes more than a horse,
and a first kiss,
to make any kind of forever.
Dirty hands and tired bodies,
falling and failing to get back up again,
the hardest work is that of a relationship.
But, kiss me anyway as this Summer turns to Fall,
and we will collect those colored sparks from the sky,
that make a night like this taste of fabricated magic.
Maybe if we hold it deep in our pockets,
saved for later.
We could pull them out and use the gleam,
to light each of our individual pathways,
and some days we might trade them off with each other,
when we meet up at the curve and curl,
taking hands briefly to say,
I am still here,