Stories from a Farther Room

Night Watching

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

Silence is dead weight,
burdening me over time;

I have failed to reach you.

On the terrace, you’d lock your gaze
on the lamplight across the ways,
blinded from the roads and passersby; –

and the ocean’s not so far away –

you’d crush the balcony rail,
so that you might not fall,
resting in the comfort of guidance
I could never give you.

By the lamp a party blared;
spirits, time and laughter were shared.

That mirth is a weighted lie to you;
a new day waits
behind compressed hours attached to a spring,
launching them back in a ferocious sling.

World sickness bruises once the spirits have gone.

You’d rather cherish the company of the sea
(where the waves would whisk the weight away),
guided by current onto the shore,
or to the fantasy out in the vast.

Night Watching

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

Silence is dead weight,
burdening me over time;

I have failed to reach you.

On the terrace, you’d lock your gaze
on the lamplight across the ways,
blinded from the roads and passersby; –

and the ocean’s not so far away –

you’d crush the balcony rail,
so that you might not fall,
resting in the comfort of guidance
I could never give you.

By the lamp a party blared;
spirits, time and laughter were shared.

That mirth is a weighted lie to you;
a new day waits
behind compressed hours attached to a spring,
launching them back in a ferocious sling.

World sickness bruises once the spirits have gone.

You’d rather cherish the company of the sea
(where the waves would whisk the weight away),
guided by current onto the shore,
or to the fantasy out in the vast.

At least the sun still shines.

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

At least the sun still shines.

“There’s your sun, burning
only enough to keep us thawed
until night falls and we are further mocked;

it’s a brittle decor on your dining table,
and you always look to aesthetics for guidance.

But there’s no food, and the vase will shatter;
it would do no good while we’re alone,
left for the world to pick our bones
in the manifest city war,”

he said, and I looked down.
There’s no home anymore.

“I know a fire pit that burns bright
like the old sun you loved;
it’s just outside the city,
and maybe it’s a way out of here;
maybe the road will let us start again.”

At least the sun still shines.

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

At least the sun still shines.

“There’s your sun, burning
only enough to keep us thawed
until night falls and we are further mocked;

it’s a brittle decor on your dining table,
and you always look to aesthetics for guidance.

But there’s no food, and the vase will shatter;
it would do no good while we’re alone,
left for the world to pick our bones
in the manifest city war,”

he said, and I looked down.
There’s no home anymore.

“I know a fire pit that burns bright
like the old sun you loved;
it’s just outside the city,
and maybe it’s a way out of here;
maybe the road will let us start again.”

At least the sun still shines.

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

At least the sun still shines.

“There’s your sun, burning
only enough to keep us thawed
until night falls and we are further mocked;

it’s a brittle decor on your dining table,
and you always look to aesthetics for guidance.

But there’s no food, and the vase will shatter;
it would do no good while we’re alone,
left for the world to pick our bones
in the manifest city war,”

he said, and I looked down.
There’s no home anymore.

“I know a fire pit that burns bright
like the old sun you loved;
it’s just outside the city,
and maybe it’s a way out of here;
maybe the road will let us start again.”

Crash

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

I’ve seen you in the mornings,
during those moments when you think
I’ve gone, and you’ve lost yourself in memory,

when the wind cuts through
the curtains, and the blanket you covet
shreds into pieces on the floor;

before the day begins,
you cling to bones and skin,
holding everything together.

So the sun shines,
with the blanket on the floor in shreds,
and already to you the day is dying,
while the traffic horns taunt you outside,
ready to take you to the grave with
the rising sun.

But in a farther room, breakfast is cooking,
tea has been poured for you,

and there’s nothing you could have done;
death is only an inevitability.

So rest assured it’s all fleeting:
the day is only a night away,
and memory’s weight will fade one day,
taking your loss with it.

Should I cook you something else
tomorrow? Would it put your mind at ease?

There is only so much I can do for you
when the world refuses to stand still.

Crash

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

I’ve seen you in the mornings,
during those moments when you think
I’ve gone, and you’ve lost yourself in memory,

when the wind cuts through
the curtains, and the blanket you covet
shreds into pieces on the floor;

before the day begins,
you cling to bones and skin,
holding everything together.

So the sun shines,
with the blanket on the floor in shreds,
and already to you the day is dying,
while the traffic horns taunt you outside,
ready to take you to the grave with
the rising sun.

But in a farther room, breakfast is cooking,
tea has been poured for you,

and there’s nothing you could have done;
death is only an inevitability.

So rest assured it’s all fleeting:
the day is only a night away,
and memory’s weight will fade one day,
taking your loss with it.

Should I cook you something else
tomorrow? Would it put your mind at ease?

There is only so much I can do for you
when the world refuses to stand still.

Miss

Reblogged from starlightandcitystreets

It’s nice to imagine a moment together:
Friends surrounded by glittering snow.
Northern lights are an amiable pleasure,
setting our faces with an amorous glow.

Hiking up trails with chill winds on our face,
and scents of pollen and pines adrift;
to sleep under stars and stare into space
while sweet dreams at night offer a lift
from gravity’s pull upon our legs
(perhaps with the help of potent kegs).

Such ideas are nice and lighten my day,
but still they are dreams, not goals.

We are friends forever (once close),
though I miss the days where we spoke.