I'm told you're painting now
I was shown your latest, a sunset,Crude in the way a child chokes a crayon,
Unable to pilot it
Steadily, yet pounds it into paper with
Unbridled passion
My friend chides it's roughness,
Maybe to appease me,
But I see beauty in each stroke of grass and
How it contrasts the rich red sky,
I like how the sun seems to bend the Earth
Around it and, Oh -
I wish I could tell you all this
It's easy to let go when clouded by
The pain you've caused,
But in these moments I am forced to see
You as the man who can appreciate the
Small miracles of life, who can
Be inspired to create, who will
Enjoy sunsets in other's
Company and, Oh -
Why couldn't it be me?
Ammateur Attempt
I’m no good at poemsYou used to tell me otherwise
My last attempt at poetry
A love letter
You wrote it brought you,
“Unbridled joy”
Or something like that
It’s hazy now
I burnt all your writings
Maybe you burnt my poem
Is this even a poem?
I wish I could ask you
I imagine you’d tell me,
“A poem can be anything”
But maybe not
I’m not sure I know you well enough
To guess a response
Home in Memory
There are days you cross my mind only once,Maybe twice,
But your brother’s laughter forever echoes
In all corners of my life,
No meal tastes quite as good
As your father’s cooking,
And the air feels ever tense,
Without your mother’s teasing
I never thought I’d miss a table,
Or the chair I picked for board game nights,
I remember your sister sat across from me,
As we exchanged silent smiles,
A pact to beat you next turn
You take away your love, and, fine,
That I can live without
But must you take away home?
Life has no warmth now
What's left
Thinking of you.Cavities have wasted my right molar
I drag my tongue across the hollow well left
Over, and over.
Unfinished Art for Anniversary Gift
Sweetest Song
In late hours I am restlessMy ears are ringing with static
Your voice used to be
The day's closing melody
But now there is nobody to sing
The sweetest song,
“Goodnight I love you”
A boy who saved caterpillars
I saw an old photo of you,Young and eyes soft,
I wonder if that boy once broke a kitchen vase
And ran from home
Before anyone could scold him,
If I could've helped him clean the mess
Would you still be running?
Chagrin
I fought against the lashings of bitter tonguesWhich insisted I leave you
A cry that lasted three changes of season
Yet I stood by you
And how I hate you for proving them right
And making me look a fool,
And how I hate myself
For wishing I'd listened