The last night of December,
the winds rush heavily towards the dark moist forests.
(Sunken cheekbones of the dark haired girl
still cling to my memory like flesh to withered ribs.)
Water runs down the side of my face in an attempt to wash away
the sticky pains of ended loves, forgotten dreams, and
desperate last attempts to heal an infected wound.
(Her eyes are dark glowing embers embedded in full black spheres,
telling all her little secrets with a breath of disillusionment.)
She escaped from my grasp in a second, ghostly smoke,
like a long-awaited word floating away into fog.
(Her mouth opens, agape, mouthing cries choked by
tree roots and weeds never to be heard in the thick brush of the Ozarks.)
I have misplaced her, not knowing the intimate reason why.
Perhaps it was thick assurance that she would drown in sappy residue
of the thoughts that ate every last scrap of my heart.
Her voice, shrill, like glass breaking on a cold winter night.
(Reminders of my sun-dried dreams
still echoes, reverberating;
still echoes, everlasting.)
Thoughts turning inward as the year closes.. reflections of where i’ve been, who i am… who i was…
Incidentally, this is the first poem I’ve written actually in the redbox ‘box’… trying to burn my security blanket, my need to use word to spellarize, grammartize, and perfectize every painstaking word. I’m feeling quite naked. We’ll see how this goes.