Lost Along The Way

I may have my shit together
and know the way my hair falls

on my shoulder is something

only you will notice.

It is time that alters every move

and the words you stop yourself from saying.

Riddles are for magicians

I am a poet

and speak in verse

forget my lack of involvement

in Hollywood

I much prefer small Brooklyn lofts

to grandiose lifestyles.

I may select the best granite sink

but truly it means

as much to me as black diamonds.

I do not care how shower doors open

I know I should

I am hated for it.

I want to know if my page is just right

and the word I selected to describe

your love is just right

but why does it still feel wrong?

I assume I make an ass out of myself

and fall into cliches and ditches

banged into a car at Tim Horton’s

thinking of poems in my head

I forgot the words to.

Along the way I found you

one night

on Crescent street

I was wearing my lavender pants and perfume

but still you never looked.

Years later

I never forget a moment

I could analyze it and crush it too.

Make it come to life

and kiss your magnificent mouth

on the street.

I bet you would notice me then.

Now it feels like you can see right

through me

but my mirror is cracked

and behind that

is a wall

with  no studs.

It can be violent

in my mind

but when I examine a raindrop

it has already fallen

and it always feels

like it is too late for us

or too soon.

 

 

Photo by Ben Zank @benzank on Instagram

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