Her Departure

For a moment of brevity in perpetuality
Luminescent spores revealed to me
Her countenance, underscored
By her turning away as she placidly
Strode at a pace free of care,
The distance could only have
Been at an arm’s length, spatially,
So I got up, very carefully
To chase after her copy, the space..I
Swear, it–it extended infinitely.

She placates with a whisper, “You don’t care.”
She knows, she sees the same thing
“Why is it that you can’t see
That I have been chasing constantly”,
My voice, indifferently, doesn’t reach her.

She’s left this, our, place, without warning,
We both once named Blushing Bromeliad,
Where poking pointed tulips coexisted on lily pads
When I had gathered countless wasted spores
Just to see her rudimentary form a bit more with clarity,
This forsaken place where illuminated contrails
Flowed freely in anointed negative spaces
That dissipated with every surge of motion.


But it’s as if she’s stopped listening.


Of Luxury

The LED’s were too bright now that her focus
Was definitely no longer on
The perspiring-meandering dribbling pace.
She aerially and virily backspins, wanting to do more,
The mysterious ball, apologetically bouncing it as she’s
Recalling the lovely diminishing conversation she’d
Had about frothy butterfly effects topping cappuccinos
That’re freshly, usually, made, about the what’s in love,
Birthdays and aging, or not, going to tune work ethic
When they’d fail to meet numbers of expectations,
Remembering the contact without proceeding to
Scribble it down, but at least accurately, assisting in
Permanence, some of it, the start impeding; canned
Processes of her impending hunger; to hear his voice,
To feel his unnourished heart beating wantonly
Through the fabric, instead of having you, as what was,
Just as words inside a screen.

By Some

Sidelining the shadows
Cautioned hesitance causes
A dip of a limb
Into pools lit in luminescence.
A feeble lane line is supplied
Inquiring as an extension
As its buoyancy acts
As mystical ley lines
Sinking under scrutiny.
Overexposure to ultraviolet rays
Burns the outer epidermal layer
Forcing us back to our den.

Understanding is no longer necessary.
Even if they may be soliloquies,
To be granted a moment of brevity
In the suns flickering radiant gaze
By some passersby,
Is more than enough.