Writer

The last night we spent together
I was standing still in the lake waters,
at sunset, the clouds fluttered like curtains
the sailboats approached the docks gently,
each wave sunk my feet deeper into the course floor--
second by second brought change,
I needed to take in every change as it happened,
a sort of film in my memory,
this was something that would never happen twice
angered by my limitations as a human
unable to ever fully believe in this beauty
unable to ever believe in this beauty.

Suddenly, it slipped--
I inhaled until my lungs burst,
eyes open until lenses cracked and curled,
drinking and drinking until cells burst
listening listening listening,

and that's when I heard the lake calling me,
"If you leave your heart with me,
you know I will never betray you."
You would not know it, but I am heartless
infront of you yesterday, today, tomorrow

and I realized you were talking to me,
standing next to me, thigh deep in your pants
water lapping against you,
I realized you had been making me promises
and spitting beautiful lies and disjointed plans

it's not that you weren't brilliant,
it's not that you weren't charming
it's not that your eyes weren't little windows

but your existence is not as dynamic,
explosion, permeating--
but the lake promised me
but the lake promised me

Go ahead, ask me if I'll be back
Look across the bay, you will hear whispers.
Writer, I am there wading, running to the horizon

and if you stroke your thumb across the water
I will feel you against my skin.