I Thought I Loved You

I thought I loved you

And then you left

And I realized I most definitely did

~Always a little too late~ T.R.

Where Does Poetry Come From

Where does your poetry come from, you ask. And this. This is where it comes from. From questions like this. Feel the words turn to ink in your mouth. Coat your tongue and drip onto notebook paper. Watch the ink turn into black hole droplets, and poetry my love, comes from the universes encapsulated in that darkness.

Where does your poetry come from, you ask. And then you smile. And that. That is where it comes from. It is birthed from the way the sun reflects off your teeth and eyes onto lined paper perfectly. The shadowed letters begging to be penned. Claiming they are here from the heavens and it is impossible to think otherwise.

Where does your poetry come from, you ask. And that is where it comes from. From the way every word spoken by your voice possesses a lyric like quality. A melody that sings me to sleep and wakes me gently to the sunrise. A song I cannot quite remember the words to and so I try to recall them with pen and paper and the quiet background track of your laughter set on repeat to keep me company, and jog my memory.

~Saturday Afternoon Reflections ~ T.R.

As I watch you leave and in turn, hold my breath as the possibility of something beautiful fades away, I become sure this is what I am truely greiving. Not the loss of this temporary happiness but the more permanent hope it held. And I think, yes, I will miss you but I will also miss the me I could have been with you if you had just waited. Let the tears crystallize and let the lip stick stains set. And I wonder if one day you too will look back on us and your heart will shudder in recognition of everything we could have become. In reverence and longing for all things lovely life might have spun itself into for us. Perhaps, someday, you will look back on everything we were and know what I know now: that we could have been something beautiful if you had just held on a little longer.

~Excuses for missing you~ T.R.

To be a writer

Is to watch

Ink splatter like blood

& People scatter like shrapnel

To know that

Pencils are prayers

Pens are promises

& that poetry books

Are filled

With dying flowers

& wilting words

If you let me love you...

If you let me love you

I would love you like how the sun leaves lipstick stains on your skin

Like how the moon trails your shadow and laughter

Like how fireflies emerge from your fallen tear drops

And the wind dances until it makes you blush pink

I would love you like how the rain washes the day clean off your skin so you can breathe again

I would love you the way nature intended you to be loved

The way you have forgotten you deserved to be loved

If you let me love you

Stopped glancing away

And dancing around conversations

And walking past me

If you looked at me

Let me look at you

Let me love you

I would tell you of how when you smile I can trace constellations in the spaces between your teeth

That when you open your eyes I can drown in galaxies that exist there

Pinpoint a pollen sized planet and make home there

Cease existing everytime you blink for a momentary eternity

I will trace the fractured lines of your heart on your soft palms and callused fingertips

If you let me love you

I will love you the right way

Which is to say that if you let me love you

I will let you love me too

Because sometimes the only reason you let someone in

Is so they will do the same for you