Apocalypse

If the world was ending today,
I'd want to be with you.
But tomorrow the sun
will still rise
and set again.
Another day gone
while I'm left with this.
The world isn't ending today
but it sure does feel like it.
It
would
be
kinder
if
it
was.

Radio Silence

Sounds like Top 40
and bands I don't know the names of,
it sounds like lyrics that don't make sense
and melodies that all sound the same.
Radio silence sounds like familiarity
and I turn it up when I'm alone,
when you're not there.
Sounds like summer days and winter nights,
like the season's change and the world's turn.
Maybe I'm burning up a sun for you,
a supernova of rhymes and reasons
and platitudes,
just read between the lines
and sing every sorry song.
Remember this burst of life and death,
of exhilaration and sorrow.
Sounds like you and me,
like beat up cars and long drives.
Like conversations deep and shallow,
muted words whispered between sighs and breaths.
I heard once:
"Some people pray, I turn up the radio."
Maybe you do too.
To drown out the noise of your own heartbeat,
to stop the ringing echo of loss.
Maybe it sounds like pop hits and rock ballads
and everything blends together
to fill the space.
Sounds like words unsaid,
like the texture of feeling.
Radio silence speaks volumes
in quiet minds.

being

you were as in love as you could be

for the time being
which wasn't saying much
given your wandering eyes
and tight-lipped mouth
but what would I know

what’s worse

is you didn’t bother to notice

that I’d fallen

you didn’t have the decency

to fall as well

I’ll forgive your lack of observation

because

for the time being

I’m as in love as I can be

Stars in Our Eyes

I’ve heard

that when you wish upon a star

it’s already gone,

millions of years ago, actually,

and we’re looking at something

that might not even be there anymore.

But it’s light still reaches us,

still gives us hope.

Hope

that we can change our station,

that we can do whatever we put our minds to,

that we can make the world a better place.

It gives us hope that there’s still time.

When we’re gone,

for millions of years after,

our light will be there to give hope.

Because we are made from stars.

Weights & Measures

I love you. It’s the only logical explanation. The chemistry of it is fairly simple. And no one is above its influence. It’s hard to be sure, if I love you. To be sure I’m in love with you. Apparently there’s a difference. Hindsight is certainly 20/20 but it’s only helpful in retrospect. Therefore, I think I’m in love with you. That’s the best I’ve got. I’m being flooded with hormones: epinephrine, dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin. That’s the science of it! The stuff that can be measured, with the right equipment. But it’s more than that, it’s the stuff of poems and songs and novels and the like. Brushed into every stroke of paint across a canvas, tuned into every note of a melody, written into every story line new and old. So I may wax poetic now but that doesn’t mean it’s for forever. That it’s real. But it’s real to me now, in this moment. So I may not love you, be in love with you, truly. Sorry. Life, while it’s the longest thing we’ll ever experience, is too short for second guesses. Since I can be sure of nothing else, I can be sure of how I feel. And this is how I feel now. I am in love with you. And there’s no use deciding if that’ll be true twenty years from now. But I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of knowing that I love you with my whole heart.

Remember

If I don’t see you soon

at least I’ll see you

when I’m dead and gone

and you’re dead and gone.

Is it wrong to hope that that is far off?

Even if it means, in this life,

we never meet again.

Go on living,

I’m surviving.

I will, I promise.

Just don’t forget.

Please, don’t.

I couldn’t bear it if you did.

Illusion

You are the moon and I am the Earth.
I caress your cratered brow

with reverence normally reserved for the sun.

Your radiance is borrowed

but I don’t mind,

and you’ve got a synchronous rotation,

forever showing your sunny disposition,

never really exposing everything.

Half of you is hidden from view

but I’ve seen glimpses of your dark side

and I’m not going anywhere.

I’m not going to be the cause of another crater

on your damaged façade, believe me.
I’ve seen you through every phase,
each full and new and beautiful.

You came ricocheting into my life,

molten and tumultuous as it was,

you put me right and, at my core,

I just don’t have the heart to let you go.

I blame it on my gravity

but, who am I kidding?

That’s just an illusion of the warped space-time,

you would agree if you knew what I meant.

I know all I appear to be,

nothing special really,

there has to be billions of me in billions of galaxies.

But I’m more than just rock,

look closely, you’ll find my exterior is flaking

and sometimes my humanity feels like it’s ruining me.

But, really, I enjoy the company because I’ve spent too many years alone

so, I’m sorry, I have to keep you close.

Don’t worry, there should be just enough distance

to appear like I wouldn’t care if you left,

like it wouldn’t throw me off my axis,

but the sea betrays me.

The tides extend themselves towards you,

hoping to get ever closer,

and they get sad and small when you’re distant.

These tendrils of my life are reaching for you

in a way that’s hard to deny.

Sometimes I don’t want to.

It’s so very cold out here and

I’ve reached the point in my years where I don’t like the loneliness

or the pressure, there are billions of me, but it seems

I’m the only one around.