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I am afraid that when I see you
the ‘I love you’ waiting in my mouth will tumble out
and leave the aftertaste of regret behind;
lately it’s been fighting to escape,
but I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut.
One week,
until we are back to where the second chapter of Us began,
back in September:
reunited in your apartment after eight years,
high on the excitement of strange familiarity;
waking up and smiling, even though
we never touched in the night;
Love’s first embrace wrapping her
warm arms around our hearts (again).
Feelings have dipped high and low since then,
from high-flying, head-over-heels-in-love euphoria,
to the numb sadness that weighed down my heart.
Still, I am eager to turn the page,
the romantic in me hoping
that the end in store for us
is a happily ever after.
Pandora nearly killed the world with her curiosity;
I only hope that the little wisp of hope she let out
doesn’t kill me.
© Copyright Clueless Cat @ http://twentysomethingandclueless.wordpress.com 2008
3WW words: apartment, began, numb
A silent “I love you” escapes me,
exhaled so naturally,
like a breath of warm air in the cold
and nearly catching me off guard.
Warm and delicate, barely visible,
it hangs in the air around us:
I love you,
even if I don’t, or can’t,
or stubbornly refuse to
remind you.
© Copyright Clueless Cat @http://twentysomethingandclueless.wordpress.com
I walked past my shadow twice today.
It was dragging its feet,
faint on the sidewalk from the weak winter sun.
So tired from late nights, unsatisfying jobs,
pretending to be a grown up, pretending not to care;
my entire being is begging
for a deep, dreamless slumber to rest my weary
head, heart, body.
“Please, please, please,”
they’re begging,
“give me what I want.”
Discontent and disconnect
wear me out.
“Please, please, please,”
I beg,
“give me what I want.”
© Copyright Clueless Cat @http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com
3WW words: rest, sidewalk, twice
All I’d been waiting for, was for you to consider
the distance between us, physically, then
emotionally. I thought stepping away for a while
would do the trick, would make you miss me. But all it was, was me
waiting tortuously for a phone call, an email, anything
to indicate that you cared; waiting for something to break the silence magnified
by each and every
mile of distance between us.
How foolish I’ve been.
I, who made it too easy for you, practically
begging you to
take me for granted.
I became the person I wanted you to be:
affectionate, thoughtful, sweet for no reason,
and always,
always loving.
(It’s really too bad I can’t date myself.)
I owe myself an apology
for the way I failed me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “No more,
no more.”
© Copyright Clueless Cat @ http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com
3WW Words: apology, consider, distant (I took the liberty of using ‘distance’ instead…)
Stop noisy words—
I crave silence.
Each word spoken, uttered, spilled onto an email or letter
joined up would cover the 8061 miles
stretched between us.
Back to basics:
you and me, Us
Unplugged.
Stripped down we are, have been:
fingers intertwining
limbs wrapping, bodies molding into each other.
Dreams of the future seem so far away, but
“We also have to remember the now,
and the now is the fact that I love you
from halfway around the world, at 2:42am,
I
Am
Loving you.
No more ‘I wish this, if we were together that’…
I love you, right now, in this moment.”
And with those words
I have nothing left to say;
I am in awe, rendered wordless, at the power
of your love
and the words that convey it.
I love you too.
No more words are needed.
© Copyright Clueless Cat (& Colin) @ http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com 2008
Context of this poem: this poem was suddenly inspired by an email Colin sent me a couple hours ago. Lately we have been frustrated because of the time difference and his suddenly very hectic work schedule, we don’t get to talk as much, and even when we do, we’re both so sick of talking talking talking, and writing writing writing – but when you’re long distance, that’s all you have. So I sent him an email saying that I missed just being with him and NOT talking, but rather just feeling his presence. The quoted section is an excerpt of his email; the bit about our fingers intertwining and us wrapped up in each other is something he mentioned also, although I did not quote it directly. Also inspired by him: the past/future/present theme. So, essentially, we wrote a poem. Together.
The sun slowly approached the sky,
peeking over the horizon, shy at first,
but quickly learning to blaze brightly.
The wind played with my hair,
curling and twisting it in the air,
moving just the way my body had been moving
only a few hours prior.
Another night has come and gone,
slipped out of grasp the way
smooth brown beer bottles slip out of drunken fingers –
loud and obvious but still
barely noticeable all the same.
Bed is calling my name.
Let the sun blaze away, shine in the spotlight
while I rest my weary head;
everybody needs a break once in a while.
© Copyright Clueless Cat @ http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com 2008
Words: approach, bottle, smooth
**Title still tentative
In an attempt to keep up my poetry, I’ve started checking out blogs that give out prompts on a regular basis. This is my first attempt at a 3 Word Wednesday (3WW).
Tomorrow
My breath catches, heartbeats scatter
at the thought of what a far away tomorrow may bring:
you and me
breathing as one
scattered minds coming together…
tomorrow, tomorrow.
Words: breath, scattered, tomorrow
I wake up to your voice, low and scratchy from sleep:
“good morning”. Sleepily I close my eyes again,
waking up to another gravely
“Good morning” an hour later,
and I am happy to hear your voice, undistorted and in person.
Good morning!
On the way to work
our hands search for and clasp
each other, fingers intertwining;
my small hand gloved in your larger one.
Walking along the city streets,
our silhouettes are brightly outlined on the dirty pavement—
mine petite, yours long and lean,
the two of us against the brilliant blue sky.
Your hand squeezes mine.
A hug goodbye:
I bury my face in your chest,
deeply inhaling the smell of you-
fresh and clean, better than laundry right out of the dryer.
I want to bottle it up and keep it for whenever I miss you
(which is a lot these days).
You plant a kiss on my lips
with your sweet and succulent lips.
I could suck on them forever,
gently biting your bottom lip like a slice of orange—
but we must separate for now, until the work day is over.
I hope you mean it when you say
you will never run out of kisses for me.
The end of the day:
the phone rings, it’s you,
calling to arrange dinner at your place:
“we’re cooking.”
My heart quickens at the sight of you opening the door,
strong and tall in the doorframe, open and welcoming me back to you
in an engulfing hug.
I want to drown in your hugs.
Dinner is a culinary delight of spaghetti Bolognese;
the aroma of cooking tomatoes fill the apartment.
Slurping spaghetti with you is just as romantic as in
Lady and the Tramp, but our soundtrack
is pre-selected by you, and not a violin-playing
Italian chef.
Curling up in bed, your kisses are my favourite dessert
(more often than not leading to second and third helpings of you,
sweet and utterly delicious).
We fall asleep, your warm body wrapped around mine
protecting me from bed monsters.
I long for the day these everyday moments
become the everyday;
when I don’t have to miss them, dream about them,
any longer.
© Clueless Cat @ http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com 2008
Disclaimer: all my poems are generally still works in progress, I am prone to editing whenever I go back to them!
Whiskey burns my lips, tingles my tongue.
Trembling fingers light a cigarette,
holding sweet smoke, acrid liquor, in;
holding you in.
Swallow and exhale –
soundless breath expelling, burning ash falling
my body falling
into bed with you.
I lick my lips slowly:
slowly like a cat,
slowly like I’d lick yours,
if you were here,
if you’d let me.
Rhythms of your music mimic
rhythms of desire pulsing through my body dancing
like a supple snake obedient to its charmer.
The conversations I would have with you
play on a loop in my head the way I want you to
play with my body:
guitar string strokes,
smooth trombone slides,
sweet saxophone sounds
loving coaxed out by your mouth and hands…
pleasure is a sound wave only we can hear.
Bed for two
lonely for one,
for you.
© Clueless Cat @http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com
Fingers pause
on the keyboard, afraid to strike out the next letter
in case it brings with it the wrong word.
Such is my life.
I am fabulous, but
broke, and single with no job prospects.
(Truth be told, the ‘single’ is indifferent,
but somehow it lends a more desperate picture—
another topic to be pondered upon in another poem.)
September gave way to October,
bringing relief of cooler days;
while I grow more anxious in a seemingly
never-ending bottomless continual
road, pit, path, or what have you –
to becoming a good-for-nothing bum
at the ripe old age of twenty-three.
Unhappy with the status quo, but
what more can I do, when I’ve already tried
everything?
So still I sit unwritten,
hoping that the next word will just come,
and I will gladly follow.
© City Girl @http://twentysomethingandclueless.blogspot.com 2007
