Greasepaint (Memories)

Slinking back home

crawling into my bed

curled tight, finally alone.

dialing

smiling

crying.

Our eyes are red

as you scream

even though I tried to not make this a scene

I just wanted to be held

you wanted to be listened to

Our love, once of a seamless weld

pristine sculpture of the perfectly woo’d

in an instant, felled.

wailing

flailing

dying

It’s been a month since our implosion.

I’ve a new paramour

and you’ve told Cupid, “Nevermore”.

I remember, that morning in May

when we were first together

Endless messages, speaking every day

thinking it would be forever

that our souls would be pressed in lavish ballet.

At night I dream of you

Dabbing on your greasepaint with a cloud-white sponge.

Lighting your oval face with a hasty grunge.

Even just once, I wish

I could have held that pyramidal cloud

sweeping paint across your nose with a swish.

You are always  in my heart

Countless days you made me smile.

Please, why must me part?

Little bear, return to me

Why can’t things be like they used to be?

When I was young and wild,

And you loved me like a darling child.

Now you won’t even look at me

Bitter as rotted black tea.

I reach out, and you ignore

Splattering my heart, animal gore.

Little bear, you taught me what love felt like.

That heat that burns like a pig iron spike

in the brain.

Come back to me, dearest friend-don’t let this line be cut.

Mine is the hand eternally outstretched–but

I fear yours is the hand that will never be held.

(You’re so cold without our love)

Midsummer (The Reeling)

He awoke, smothered in sweat

Dead of night, some sticky clime

a night tethered in malignant threats.

Poison dripping from every vine.

The warrior breathes deep

the air is sickly sweet

He turns to and fro

Looking for a place to go.

His last memory is of a shattered ship

tossed against distant shores

Drinking mead before the battered trip

That left him stranded and sore.

He makes it to a riverbank, the sun at its peak.

The river churning up a burning heat

The warrior abandons his iron plates and heavy coat

Praying that Odin will lead him back to the boat.

Suddenly, a light voice streams in on the breeze

A flowered scent, umber eyes like none across the seven seas.

A maiden, skin like burnished copper gleaming.

Stood washing at the riverbank, sending him reeling.

She heard him fall

the thick splat he made in the clay, dispersing aerosol

She’d never seen a man so pale,large, or tall

Perhaps he was a god, incarnated into this cacao-haired doll.

She stood over him as he opened his eyes. She tried to greet him

But he remained mute, immobile, dim.

The maiden spattered sounds. They were the bubbling froth of an ale.

The warrior stared. The pucker of her raspberry lips was more beautiful than Freya’s

She tried again, to greet him. She sat on his mountainous chest.

His hair was in tresses, strange insignias covered his breast.

He wanted to reply in her voluptuous tongue

But all he could think of was the sun shining from her eyes.

Her hair was a sheet of pure obsidian, her oval face was young

zephyr on the wings of a butterfly.

She took him by the hand, fearless of this Nordic giant.

He followed her, eyes wide–compliant.

He didn’t speak, lest this copper skinned girl ever know

That he would cut down Yggdrasil to simply hear her say “Hello”.

(Is go Oíche Fhéil Eoin,

Ní thiocfaidh mé aniar)

For Issa

UPDATE

Hello! I’m sorry to have been dormant these few summer months! I’ve been working four jobs, so I was pressed for time. Now that school has started and I’m back down to three part time jobs, I’ll make room to write poetry for you all again.
Again, sorry for the hiatus and I promise I’ll be back soon.