Keep Me In Your Heart

Keep me in your heart,
she asked,
while I go bury
a part of me
but recently, unspeakably,
gone.
They were just here,
those memories he gave me,
while learning laughter at his feet.
They were not mine at all, they were
his,
but they colored the blandness
of my dreams
and gave them wings
to fly on their own.

So keep me in your heart,
she asked,
while I go to carve a headstone
for a life I wanted lived
a hundred more years worth
of loving,
but now lost, now lost,
to words I'd always meant
to say,
to smiles no one else can now see
except through
my tears.

So keep me in your heart,
she asked,
while I grieve, and grieving,
celebrate a heart
that now must beat
through my own defeats,
through my own victories.
I have loved, I have been
loved,
But keep me in your heart still,
while I go close one door,
before opening
another.

Moth2UrFlame
081908

SAD MOVIES WILL ONLY MAKE YOU CRY

I was watching 'The End of the Affair' the other day, the '99 flick with Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore.

Tell me... why do all of these affairs seem to end so tragically, so fatally?Why is it that when you find someone who is so right, so right that he somehow rocks your world, and mount it all against the backdrop of everything else in your life... somehow it becomes wrong? And the world will not conspire to bring you to such happiness.

Or do they only do that in movies?

This brings me to another thought... one that wonders how it would be if we saw that film together.

Aahh... or as you would say, 'Bah!' To hell with sad movies.

HOW 'BOUT US?

Thank you for coming.

I would have waited for you to find me here. But I'm too impatient and you are too settled. At least, to me, that's how you seem. Your world will spin and it has its own axis, its own momentum, its own direction... untouched, untouchable. Not that I am privy to that, still you might have mentioned, once or twice, there is not much you are still looking for...

It is so liberating to talk about this...

Right there... I was so tempted to say 'about us,' but that might be an exercise in presumption and I might be over-reaching. Maybe someday I will be so bold. This place does not recognize scruples, after all. It is a free place, where I can speak, and be. Where you could be the dream you are. I smile at that, because I know whatever I say or do, you delight in it, soak it up like a sponge and hold it in... so I don't know exactly what it is that you love, when you say you love.

Still, it is liberating to talk about you. What was it you said - to articulate the confusion into manageable semantics. I never forgot that. I've been wanting to do that, searched for the words and spun them all together and though I have revived my old place, filled it up with things in my everyday life, things that people find nice and 'touching,' there was a part of me that found it hollow. I wanted there to be a balance between what people saw and what was screaming from my heart. I can't, of course. Not in that place, at least.

I cannot write the poetry that you do. I hope once in a while you'd find the generosity to grace my place with your genius... a couple of lines, it doesn't take much to make me smile.

Have I told you, I got 3 zits on my face... around my nose, along my lip?

I never get pimples.

IT ALL STARTS WITH ONE HELLO

I created this for you.

Because I envy you. You have a place where you can sometimes talk about me, assuming that you do write about me. Assuming especially that that last one was about me, unless somebody else sent you an American poem. You have that place, where people know you, but half the time they do not know what you are talking about. Or so you said.

But I do. I know. I know when you're being playful, or when you're writing with a smile on your face, or when you're being contemplative, or sad, or tired. Most of all, I know when you're writing about me. I know when I've made you smile. I know when I've made you pleased. I know when you miss me.

I want to write about stuff like that too. I want to write about how I feel, for you. I want to write about how I feel about the things you make me feel. I would go on top of my roof, if I had a roof, and shout all about feelings... if I ever felt.

I want to talk about love, too. I have done that, of course, in my past, in my present. I will probably have love to talk about all the time and hopefully, barring fate and her sometimes mean pranks, well into the future. For the one I love... the one I have always and always will... before you.

But it's nothing like this. Never will be, I think. Nothing like the love I need to talk about here. Nothing like what I feel for you.

Maybe there will be some who will find my words and in the whole amalgam of human experience, will bob their heads every once in a while and feel them too. Maybe... I don't really care.

All I care to find here is you.

And the me that found enough courage to create this for you.

Once I said, '... I'm thinking, dangerous.' And you told me, '... and I am thinking, there be but one life, and there be joys merely meant for the giving...'

This is my joy. Something I hope somehow you'd take... in this one life.