JackSGreyson Says

third wife to be,
or so you hope,
he loves you so.
(but love is not
what is wrong here)

he and first wife,
had been young then,
so quick to fall.
(as well to part,
they did not last)

she who came next,
may not have known,
or did not care.
(she thought the same,
and paid the price)

love is not all,
for what of faith?
he loved them, too.
(third wife to be,
learn from the past)

—

Someday is a dog,
shy and sad and scruffy,
but wise and full of hope.

Someday does not like new places,
but new people she is willing to trust
so long as they do not make her bathe.

Someday walks slowly,
sniffing at the flowers on her path,
greeting everyone that needs a smile.

Someday is content
with three bowls of food,
her pillow and daily pettings.

Someday is a literal dog,
who lays her head on my knee,
and looks at me, believing.

we were unafraid,
for there was little, then, to fear.
our monsters easily banished,
with a flick of a light switch.
now our monsters are legion,
hiding anywhere, as anyone,
instead of being fearless,
we must now be brave.

—

may passion find a home within you,
may joy be a frequent guest,
may sorrow visit fleetingly
and anger, too, be quick to rest.

—

what did we used to say to each other?
one day, one day,
we’ll get out of here;
one day, one day,
we’ll be older, stronger;
one day, one day…
… this won’t happen again.

—

on silent feet,
down darkened steps,
she treads.
night has fallen,
the sun beings sleep,
time for her to wake.

It was never about finding the truth,
never about finding passion,
or your purpose in life.
It was about surviving,
about scraping out an existence
and saying:
here I will stand,
here I will stay,
this is where I draw the line.

Sometimes your line gets smudged.
Sometimes your hands get tired,
aching muscles,
skin gone metallic and sweaty
from the hammer and chisel.
Carving out a mountain untouched,
far from the rivers and the seas–
no limestone or gypsum here.

Tonight you laugh,
tonight you cry,
tonight you remember to feel.
Music in the air, swooping and light,
bells, flutes, and piano trills,
punctuated with brass and playful drums.
Your body wants to dance,
though you don’t have the choreography.

What is today?
A friend you’ve not seen in ages.

everyday, a bottle
thrown to the ocean
secrets and wishes written inside

i am here, i am here, i am here,

island slowly slinking
storm on the horizon
waves encroaching,
sand washed away

don’t let me drown

—

We were a series of missed connections,
meetings and encounters unaligned.
I could have loved you,
was halfway there,
until we drifted apart.

Across the room,
our eyes first met,
commiserating smile dimpling your cheek.
Listening to a fool,
and trying not to laugh,
I might have fallen in love with that smile.

A few days later,
the second time,
a spark of recognition and pleased surprise.
You introduced yourself,
hair dark against the pale pink of your shirt,
so sweet, the curve of your neck.

Third followed soon,
later that night,
lights dim, music thumping, glasses in hand.
The crowd pushed us together,
but you linked our arms and drew me close.
Head resting against my shoulder.

It would have been a beautiful beginning.

I couldn’t find you after that night.
I had your name but not your number.
I didn’t even think to ask,
hadn’t understood until it was already too late.

I might have seen you in the library, once,
separated by glass walls and a flight of stairs.
Breathless, reckless,
more falling than walking,
I tried to catch you,
and found only an empty desk instead.

Your name was a beacon,
I interrupted so many conversations,
a lovestruck fool.
Maybe you would have laughed.
But none of them were you,
and the months passed.

I could have loved you.