Waiting

You were a Lincoln,
four Abe’s tall
and an N.Y skyscraper
of stories to tell,
of how you
[fell]
for every upside down 6′ 11″
walking cataclysm,
that promised to fashion you
into a date worth remembering.

Jukebox cheeks
expelled wind-chime laughter,
plastered smile
conceals disaster,
morse code pulse
crescendos faster,
sapphire eyes
resemble Casper;
we all knew that they would ghost you, tempo through for wounds erode you.

Still.

I will wait for you,
like rush hour traffic
for a drawbridge,
like a bride’s face
bridled in fiance’s coma
after torn reintroductions.

Still.

Waning
Anticipation.
Inanimate.
Tinted
In
Nude
Gullibility.

I wait.

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Dedication: For You

May every morning find you
ready to wrestle
every obstacle bent
on reminding you
of the impossible,
the improbable.

May every morning
find you living
to love again,
loving
to live again.

May every sunrise
greet your eyes with inspiration,
find your smile
seeking to save
someone who’s forgotten
how to put on theirs.

May the dew,
instill in you
a reason to let go
of what pains you the most
like weakness
leaving the soul.

Most of all,
may this morning
remind you that
you’re special enough
to be thought of,
always.

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