Blog
Freedom
I wrote it on the beach
while staring at the ocean
but forgot to send it
deleted it somehow
and poetry faded into
the sand under my feet.
I hear what you say
but I’m nodding at the sky
it’s talking to me
so be silent.
listen. i told you to
stare and you did,
listening to the wind
and how the earth moved
with the clouds.
You breathe deeply.
she was the one
who never got
away from your thoughts
and she was the one
that reminded you
of me. no spells
required. it was
word play. tricks
that poets perform
on cue. i trust no one
but my lover
who knows every
mole on my skin.
every beach is different
yet the same,
and every man is you
and every woman
is me.
That freedom of
saying you’re mine
or I’m yours
or other lovely phrases
that confuse the horizon
are Purolator express
packages of signed poems
I sent to Pakistan, London,
Lebanon, and other exotic
places that poets meet.
Remember how we ruled
the scene with teased hair
and duMaurier cigs
no line ups, no hash tags,
no texts, no pictures?
You just wanted to
get next to me.
That was all
that mattered.
Now everything matters.
My shoes, my hair,
my fake promises.
Yet you see nothing
but what you
have always seen
and that is one
of the myriad ways
that I love you
in every song.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=39rcVVbVWNU
Comments:
10
*sigh* She’s back. ❤
This is beyond words just beautiful … Thank you Eric for suggesting this read. I am already a follower, but am simply dazzled by this piece.
Thank you. Truly humbled.
really a cool piece, so imaginative in an expression that allows so much connection
I am so awed how ppl connect to the words:) thank you sweetness
Mission accomplished. 🙂 glad to see your words again, #flamebloodedpoetess
In and out still on vacay ❤️❤️
Well then..*tips hat*…thank you for the flyby, Ma’am. 😉
My pleasure❤️curtsy xx
Reblogged this on georgeforfun and commented:
touching ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)