Home » Posts tagged 'love'
I’ll forever be curious why I went to a wedding
where they only served pie,
cut a cake with a sword,
and six months later divorced.
Though when I asked why, I was met with resistance, like posing the question
just wasn’t my business.
But I traveled a long way for that dry wedding.
From New York to Oregon.
For a slice of blueberry pie,
hand picked by the bride—
whose groom, I guess
couldn’t stand blueberries.
I’ve been awake all night, thinking of life
before you were here.
When suddenly I, turned on the light
everything was clear.
If you let me love you baby
I will love you till the end of time.
Nothing in this world could stop me baby
Gonna love you till the day I die.
Like a thief in the night, you’ve been on my mind
stealing all of my dreams.
I can’t lie, I wish that I
could just get some sleep.
If you let me love you baby
I will love you till the end of time.
Nothing in this world could stop me baby
Gonna love you till the day I die.
If you, just take my hand.
Will you, help me understand.
How you’ve, taken the stars
and put them in your eyes.
If you let me love you baby
I will love you till the end of time.
Nothing in this would could stop me baby
Gonna love you till the day I die.
I sit here, rocking
waiting for you to wake.
In your blanket with the bumps
snuggled close to me.
My butt? It’s numb, from sitting for an hour.
Trying not to move or disturb you from your slumber.
What’s that, my boy, are you laughing at me?
Because Miles, like always
you’re smiling in your sleep.
Or perhaps it’s the birds, singing at our window.
With the curtains pulled shut, this cave of ours is peaceful.
While the air condition hums,
the ceiling fan spins,
I hold your little hand with the baby blues again.
Don’t worry little one, it’s not that I am sad
it’s just you’ve given me such joy,
it hurts to feel glad.
So when you’re good and ready
to laugh and sing and play
just open up those brilliant eyes
and take these blues away.
Our baby in his crib.
My wife in bed.
And our cat on my lap.
I start my day in this rocking chair,
black cup of coffee, waiting for the sun to rise.
Though the curtain’s closed
just enough light leaks through, to
silhouette our little boy—
who stirs and coos and grumbles.
And reminds me just how precious life can be.
I thought I’d heard it all
until I heard a man
screaming at the top of his lungs
on a Sunday morning
at the mother of his child, because
for some people being an adult
just doesn’t quite fit in with their lifestyle—
This neighbor of mine
let’s call him Ray, he walks to the beat of his own drummer.
And frankly, that drummer sucks.
Whether he’s high all day, shouting who wants Champagne! (on a Thursday afternoon) or chasing women from his apartment claiming they’re trespassing while hollering,
YOU SELL SEX FOR FREE!
Hell, Ray does it all.
Record producer! Club promoter!
Youtube celebrity!
He’s a real stand up guy—
And all the while he’s shouting about custody.
Custody?
You mean the baby’s only in there half the time?
Well, I’ll be damned…
it’s 4am—and here we go again.
The best part is when he calls himself a grown ass man—screaming about a 34$ bottle of booze.
I mean, really?
You can’t make this shit up.
Starry is the night.
This pain I’d spare for change.
Accept it or reject it,
it’s either way the same.
Misty comes the morning.
An afternoon of rain.
It’s quiet in the evening,
but isn’t that the way?
To offer one protection.
A coat from bustling wind.
If only could my doorstep,
provide the warmth within.
Though darkest is the hour.
The brightest star may fall.
I dare not wish upon it,
but marvel still in awe.
How elegant it sounds.
Sweet agony by dawn.
When days aren’t worth repeating,
who am I in your sky?
If you look around you’ll notice
certain things are dirty
and certain things are clean.
If everything was dirty,
chances are you’d notice nothing.
If everything was clean, well
you’d notice everything that wasn’t.
I’ll never fully understand the anatomy of women.
Or what it means to be a man.
I’ll never fully comprehend
the way which we evolve.
If stones don’t throw themselves, what’s all this broken glass?
If architects were certain, would houses not be built to last?
So if by chance you notice
everything that wasn’t.
Chances are you’ll notice, that light reveals nothing.
Just empty rooms with empty shelves.
Just echoes full of dust.
Just empty rooms with unlocked doors
we dare not walk through twice.
If I thought you had no value
I’d let you fall apart.
Like trinkets in a storeroom
To once belonged a heart.
In worlds so unforgiving
where love’s a dying art,
it’s natural to be painted
like Van Gogh in the dark.
See candle light can guide you
but only goes so far,
don’t look beyond the shadows
for beatings of the heart.
For if you had no value
I’d let their theories win.
Like trinkets in a storeroom
Whose worth is found within.
In the evening it’s quiet
and all so overwhelming,
how the floorboards creak—
listening to music,
the refrigerator hums.
It feels like Winter in West Haven.
Summer in Black Point.
It feels like sleepovers on Hill Street.
Has the world forgotten us?
Or have we just found relief?
A little sort of hideaway
that no one else can see.
So I pour a cup of coffee—
do all I can to stay awake.
For now the storm has passed.
And all that trickles in
from the window that’s been open,
are the cooing sounds of morning
that no more than a sneeze could break.
Today I marry my best friend.
Who even in our times of separation
has never left my side.
Do you know how truly special you are?
Because I do.
Allow me to explain.
For years I tried to deny my love
curiosity, and admiration for you.
For years I tried to keep you
buried like treasure, in poetry and words—
(so sure that one day you’d forget me)
For years I was a fool
desperate for attention, and scared to tell the truth.
Do you ever feel ugly or impossible to love?
Like no matter how hard you try,
there’s always this voice urging you to quit?
What boggles my mind most
is how long I spent pretending.
Trying everything I could
to become something that I wasn’t.
Believing that if I kept us a secret
I wouldn’t have to face reality.
The reality that I am a sweet, honest man.
The reality that I am dignified and true.
The reality that no matter how hard I’ve tried to forget—
you’ve never forgotten me, and I’ve never forgotten you.
So today, I marry my best friend.
The sweetest person I’ve ever known.
You’re the love of my life.
You’re the fire to my stone.
And now, my love
we are free to do anything.
Words Of An Average White Male 