The Empty Journal

To watch their eyes dancing
alongside the firelight,
it would be easy to assume
that they were more than friends
And I suppose some would say that they are
For she goes to hug him,
then releases a little too soon,
because she has no genuine
desire to let him go;
yet knows she'll have to
He remembers something he once read
about time slowing for hungry lungs,
and so holds his breath
while he's holding her
The lovers they were born to be
die painfully, and mourn one another
a thousand times in a single goodbye
And as he finds his fingers
winding like vines around hers,
she remembers why distance
is their only defense
In the back of his mind he knows
it's only a matter of time
before he drinks his way to pieces
without her
Likewise, she realizes that
not even letting herself go
will stop him from seeing
all the beauty she keeps inside
But fighting it seems justified
They each have their case to make
Still, as I watch them part ways
where the street marries east and west,
I cannot help but wonder
what drives them both to settle
for their stable lives apart,
when the weight of what could be
is often too painful to bear
with sober eyes open
And, turning back to my beer,
I must ask myself the same
sort of question
But the drink goes down easy
And so it is that soon
I've forgotten the answer
involves nothing more than turning around,
and taking that chance
The blank lines beg upon the page,
and we do nothing about them
Yet within we are both
forever clutching a pen

Poetry from A Bar in Brooklyn by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback coming spring of 2017

No comments:

Post a Comment