willow/puddles/mythological

three poems of three romantic misfortunes

my lovely friend at the creek has nothing to do with any of my heartbreak. she is simply here as moral and emotional support!

1. Willow

Whispy willow boy,
you were the orange tree.
You were my last breaths at endless,
unearthly sea. 
You were dreams, 
you were unending innocence. 
You were spring, I was the flower
blooming beneath your
kind sun, 
our enormous laughter
could be heard by anyone. 

I waited for you by your willow tree for so long, you know.
The drooping branches kept my secrets and I 
covered by your shadow. 
The willow wept for you too, 
not just me. 

Friendly goodbyes,
friendlier hellos, 
and you knew, didn’t you? 
You knew all along, and yet 
you always left me wondering.

Don’t come back now, 
unkind dream.
You are only passing
like ghost town trains
through me. 

Don’t come visit 
from your far away country
don’t come lay your words
at the roots, 
your words so witty and devoid 
of change,
your smirk in shallow pride
unfazed. 

I won’t regret 
the way we brushed shoulders and walked past
with no words
left to be said. 

2. Puddles

Quick with your skip 
skippy as a kid
I could hardly keep score
of your quick detour

You spun me sideways,
on the sidewalk
it still poured
I was already covered, 
already made

you bid your time
and covered my head 
with hands like mine, 
with hands 
like wine implying
salvation from 
falling sky.

It’s not that you lied,
it’s not like you kept, 
but you’ve gone to hide
those scintillating eyes
that beckoned,
that reckoned 
that left
as quick as you came.

3. Mythological

I hold my head
so ill in bed,
I try to stomach the way
you held me
like your lover. 
You, the first to ever bear witness 
to my flesh,
to accept it!
You, who held me closer than any other
who so easily
turned their back on me, 
unwilling
to ever turn their head back— 

— You became mythological.
I hate the taste of
lack.
I want you
to materialize. 
I outlined the shape of you 
to remember, in turquoise and
jade,
the slope of your eyes and the way
your crow’s feet appeared
at the sight of me once. 
I furnished a room for you inside my heart,
its inhabitant 
left it to dust,
my stomach churns
and I've turned to rust.