Tuesday, March 18, 2014

nothing to do with st. patty's day

i awoke; 
to twenty-six year sunshine
rising up the valley
two pine trees
three empty beer cans,
six cigarettes,
both my dreams, 
and all my insecurities 

one - that i will never make it home 
two - the dogs will bite
three - i spoke too soon 
four - i said too much 
five - you’d rather be somewhere else and
six - things would be different if only i had kissed her

these are my inhale,
swallowed (and today no exception) every morning
as casually as cereal; 
like daily memorials
to the hope i'd have it all together, 
to the wish to dream away or dream forever, 
her - 
lovely i could only start to pen unfinished words to,
soul alive to spark a window wide enough to peak through, 
will so brave i soon became the one that needed rescue,

are you ready? 
because when i start to speak
she will see 
that the bridges in my love songs 
have lost all the safety they once promised, 
looks more 
like aged rope, tattered boards 
and the canyons of an indiana jones film, 
than a welcomed invitation to love me; 

yes, i do believe in romance 

i'm only frightened to admit it 
to anyone that knows i'm much too cowardly to get it 

but some days, 

one must inch out onto the limbs of his hopeful 
as if all things passed were now reflected off his fears into daylight,
as if the broken bones and the scars are again merely what’s to come;
only we can see them 
only we can hear them, and feel them
like a thumping in our chest 
and a voice out west 
saying i dare you: 
failure is an option, 
but she is beautiful 
and heartbreak is only my rough draft

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