some nights tap me awake by the shoulder
they whisper into my ear,
and summon me from the hoarding arms of my bed.
they remind me of you. infuse my dreams
with what you are doing and what you are not–
and the irony is this: I have no way of knowing
truth from lies, what is right from what is left…
a memory of you teases my lips to the curve of a smile,
something that smells like you makes my nose twitch…
my breath hitches, i must stink of you.
i am wide awake now;
looking through my phone for messages you never sent.
“hey love. I’m sorry we never met”
i am remembering another memory that never was,
or was it?
there is a door, a knock.
i answer, you smile.
i escape into your mighty embrace.
i am there, arms stretched wide apart and
there is my imagination of you growing cold from December’s harmattan.
I want to pull you in, close; out of my fantasies into reality
but I don’t.
maybe you will make it to me on your own,
maybe you will find me waiting,
maybe I will still be missing you.
now, I miss the way that
laughter would glide through my throat,
and escape from my mouth in heaves of wonder…
tasting like happiness,
only more sublime,
but this is what would be, if only you were mine.
like a universe of ecstasies,
satisfaction would collide into redemption.
because i imagine that you will redeem me
from the throes of wanting something without a name or face.
it was you all along,
you are all I have been wanting, until now
and I am still wanting you:
all the love you never gave,
every inch of you I never got a chance to hate.
be a gentleman
don’t make me wait.
So this is a pretty random experimental post. I had written it a while back in prose form, and didn’t feel satisfied enough to publish until i read John Freeman’s poetry titled “Saudade” as attached in the picture below. I loved his post and it made me love mine more.
Image Source: m.poets.org
© The Short Black Girl, 2017.