15 April, 2016, I published a dreary poem–my first post here on WordPress–now celebrating its first birthday. Nuts to me, I didn’t even bake a cake. A glass of wine will have to do–a slutty jam jar of blackberry Merlot. Tastes like Sunday Mass.
In his dreams, she dances
In and out of shadow and luminescence.
Her liquescent movements are reminiscent
Of a languid flame that once danced for the rose candle,
Which now sits cold, useless—
Dead since late October.
He breathes deeply scents of
Sandalwood and rose, the essence of her hair.
He tastes the redolence of gin and tonic,
And the tang of menthol ciggies cleaving to her tongue—
Senses living, ever
Lasting in October.
He hears her breath, rhythmic
Against a backdrop of fall rain. Soft sputters
Splatter gently upon the cold windowpane—
The melody of October unjust, justified.
Song of amour, ever
Low, ever fleeting…
He awakes in the night.
She is there in the black, low-slung and callous—
Phantom in the guise of a satellite,
Casting her hateful white light through the thin window shade,
Ever mocking, ever
Static in October.
This past year, I have grown as a writer, and as a human being. I have my WordPress friends to thank; for you have opened my eyes to new perspectives, and have shown such kindness, I’ve realized that a writer’s loneliness doesn’t have to be perpetual. The respect I have for you all is immeasurable, not only because of your mind blowing talents, but for your truths, humanity, and humility, too.
I surely I hope you special people know who are, and can feel what you mean to me. Here’s to many more years together.
Good health, friends.