The Days After

You were
a story too short
of tickling my palate
to versify your essence
in the presence
of insipid questions,
yet remnants of you remain
‘neath my fingernails,
from clawing at
the thought of you leaving.

Your spirit was always
a verse too free
of parentheses,
and even dashes.
You always dotted your T’s
and crossed your I’s
when you spelled it,
said that even letters
needed someone to hug.
Your inception
was never capitalized,
so Life
show me the backspace,
I need to delete this period.

I need
a longer story to tell,
to canvas these memories
into paintings that won’t
sugarcoat the rain,
or turn celestial cotton
into candy.
I’m crossing my heart,
And hoping
You will embrace it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s