Pieces of my Days

His name is still the one
Written on my lips.
It's his image still
Etched on my heart.
But I am slowly,
Bit by bit,
Filling him off.
And as I file him away,
I know it's for
My own health,
Yet also because
There's another name
Painting my life with
Swaths of his colors,
Initialing pieces of my days.

Captivated and caught
By beauty I want to deny.
This year eases the weight
I once labored under.
It still rests upon me
Yet this year I can smile.
Perhaps it is because
I have been taught to sass,
Taught to speak up,
By friends braver than I.

I'm craving his words.
I'm craving some escape
From this reality I live in.
I am overcome,
Even two weeks out,
With the desire to return
Back to school and classes.
Even there,
As I am driven slowly insane
By paper after paper,
At least that repetition
Is not drudgery
And leads me towards
A higher goal.

For fear of seeming desperate,
I hold my tongue.
I stay back
And wither under the weight
Of a job I can no longer stand.

A hawk cried.
Even I,
     Sitting halfway
     Between indoors
     And out,
Could not help
But feel my spirit
                                 Lift
With the keen
Of a sky-borne predator.  

I was alright.
And then in a flash,
I wasn't.
All that could have been
All that was,
Hit me suddenly
And without warning.
Pain washed over me,
Tinged with sadness.
Yet through some effort,
Some power
From some where,
I turned all that hurt
Into a bittersweet happy.
Don't ask how,
For I'm not sure
How I can smile
While looking at a face
That's lost to me
Smiling with another.

It takes a bravery
To stand up and say
"I am grown.
I will solve this.
I will try my hardest."
It will still hurt
To force yourself
Into a new mold,
A new way to think
And act as someone mature.
But hey,
Now I have two
New job interviews.
This maturity thing
Totes paid off. ;)

Let your words roll over me.
I want to be wooed,
And wooed by you.
I'll stitch you a conversation,
A poem,
If you like,
But you'll have to grow
The sentences yourself.

Home,
Where I can scratch out letters
And cook food
And sleep without stress.
So lovely.

It's so hard not to send him words
Anytime I think of them.
It's hard to hold on to
Slips of coverversation
For it wouldn't be polite
To merely blurt everything out.

The storm has raged and faded,
The green sky turned to black.
I remember the rustling of the trees
And the roaring of the wind.
Though I do not wish
That the storm had stayed,
I still miss it now that it's gone.

Details

Let me remember every detail.
I glanced and stared at him enough
To draw him again with words,
Though this time
I cannot be so poetical.

I love that his hair is growing long again,
That the curls are forming again
Giving texture,
Depth to dark and short waves.
I want to touch
The single outlying curl
At the base of his neck.
It's tantalizing.

He hasn't shaved recently,
For the smallest frame
Is forming around his mouth,
And my attention was there already,
What with his clever tongue
Talking, of course.

After removing his tie,
He undid a button.
Now with each stretch of his shoulders
My eyes are called to the smooth skin
Shielding tendons of his neck,
And the single freckle there.
He also rolled up his sleeves.
When he lifted the heavy box,
Muscles flexing with work,
I think my heart flipped.

Maybe I'm ashamed of my intense perusal,
My cataloging of these details and more
(Like how he reels back with laughter
Or how joyously slender yet strong his hands are).
But maybe I'm not that embarrassed
To revel in a wondrous creation of God's.

I don't want to go.
I don't want to leave
This place,
These people,
Sitting in a living room
And chatting until
Your eyes shut unwittingly.
Yet all things
Must move toward their end.
So here I sit,
Immortalizing these moments
And praying I'll find new ones.

Perhaps
It is high time
I banished these affections
And finally
quit.

I always prefer the background characters.
(Though I also always love forefront players.)
They're the little touches of art,
The details that make it real.
It's their attention to the little things
That make the image reality.

I look forward
To my days alone.
Finally,
I'll be able to rest
From these complex
Emotions
That do nothing
But make me
Hate myself.