As promised …

(I wrote this one very, very recently.)

That Song (To Remind Me)

there are words for how,
and books written for why it must be so …

I play that song to remind me of the time
you were lying on the bed
and said something of my eyes
when they turn shockingly blue
then fade back to gray
right after I have cried

it was the observation and not the words,
“all the lights on and you are a alive …”
that awakened my senses
and paused the moment in my time
that pulled me from locked doors
that stopped my heart, dead

I am hypnotized by those old nights
and I close my eyes
to to pause in a still frame
filled with the memory of the day
you told me so sweetly how
you would like to cover me in rain

I listen to the chords
and imagine you strummng me the same
it was the way you were sitting
and the not the slow stretch of
“blue eyes, you’re the secret I keep …”
that I think of as poetry

you would look away and I would watch
the curve of your shoulders
trailing off into your back
and I knew I was falling, falling
into the strength of your stability
into subtle courage of your hands

and I wondered how a man like you
who spoke of songs I love
and played a slow, smooth guitar
was sitting there on my bed,
seeing depths no one else could see
and so falling in love with me

you are a flash of light
a figment of my imagination
“you don’t know the greatness you are …”
a myth, a legend, a dream
not something that I could ever pin down
not something I could ever keep

clumpsily lost in pens and papers
nervous at the touch of your skin
studying your every movement,
painting you as a piece of artwork
to prove you were not only fantasy
to prove you somehow belonged to me

there is electricity in your stillness
and static in your stare
there is a current pulling me closer,
a fumbling in this silence
and I find that I am needing you,
but I am wanting you even more

so the song plays quietly
“wish enough, wise man’ll tell you a lie …”
but you were no lie, you were real
you were fantasy, but you were mine
sure as this feeling of which you inspired
and I now sit here and write

I write so you know of this love
letters, books, words, poetry
chords, guitars, pens, papers
lyrics, songs I love, and mix CD’s
and how it all means nothing without you here,
how it means nothing at all, without you, to me

I play that song to remind me of the time
you were lying on the bed
and said something of my eyes
when they turn shockingly blue
then fade back to gray
right after I have cried

and there are words for how,
and books written for why it must be so …

© – SKK

By request (again) …

(I wrote this one recently. I do apologize for any untidiness, as the requests have been for something new about “this” sort of thing.)

All I Need

I put myself into songs
and try to become that part of you
where soul and paper collide
and all left hanging between
isn’t all that you write

I love you
and I know I should say it,
but I can’t say it
and not have you know
just what I feel

words are my world,
but words are not enough,
so I bite my tongue, and I
look at you through scenes
in my most recent daydream

where I do not wear
the rose-colored glasses
from all the times before,
and I speak without pretense
as I put away my disguise

I discard all the reasons
and I open my eyes,
not blind my sight
to all of the flaws you carry,
all the beauty you carefully hide

I walk into the room
and I do not meet your eyes,
terrifed you will finally recognize
that I steal my glances,
and paint my smile

not as strong as I seem,
I crack and I leak
on the days when I get weary,
on the nights when
the memory of you makes me weak

but it doesn’t mean
I don’t time my stares
and secretly call you mine
with the hope that you will
one day realize

you are everything I want,
you are everything I need
there is no other,
there is no one else,
you are everything to me

and maybe I am not perfect,
but perfection is boring,
and perfection is tiring,
all of the words that
I never want to be

I refuse to live in the gray
and in love I feel the same
life is too short for faking
and there is nothing fake
in this confession I am making

it’s on a whim that I love you
and on a whim that I dream
so just love me, love me,
love me for all we were,
and all we could still be

I never make much sense,
but I do think if you opened me up
to analyze my rings, you
(and only you)
could make some sense of me

I am poetry
I am silence,
I am full of prose,
too romantic for my own good,
too much for most to hold

but you show me glimpses of
hope in the shape of
two warm hands and a slow, coy smile
brimming with brightness,
full of mystery, space, and time

and you have a
laugh full of liquid
that has been melting my ice,
seeing through my darkness,
leaving me hypnotized

my love is quiet, my love is kind
where before it was unsteady,
my love will not fail you
not ever again,
not this time

if I told you all the
serenity I find
when I let your eyes meet mine,
the blue and the green
and the deep, deep brown

what I would mean
is that you shouldn’t feel tired
and you mustn’t make a sound,
just give me all of your colors,
explode them into my sky

I have been waiting for you,
I won’t run this time
I will hold you closer,
I will tell you everything,
finally offer the words I pushed aside

I pin my heart on my sleeve
to let you know I am ready,
I wear the key to my heart
around my neck,
hoping you will see

please speak, I will listen
give me the answers, I will hear
I will not push you,
I will not pull you,
you have nothing more to fear

a small chance to show you,
a small chance to make you believe
you are all I can hope for
I will give you so much more,
a chance is all I need

© – SKK