The News in Sunday Morning's Room

You start with the surface.

Grecian eyes, tooled away centuries ago by masters of their craft; artisans awaiting just the right woman worthy of their work. They’re now socketed centerpieces of a visage organized by architects building off flawless designs. Cheekbones bouncing light, blushing from your forwardness, highlight her fearful symmetry. Her roaring bob spins violently with the turn of her head, imitating a Mediterranean night’s shade and daunting nature. It frames her masterpiece; her impossibly remarkable face that before tonight, only dreams had conceived.

Let the marriage die. You knew her once as a creation of gods so bent on beauty that they deprived her of humanity. The gods bore into her mind that no cost could be too high to protect what so many had suffered to shape, sculpt, and erect. A self-defense device lie deeply imbued: avoid all abuse to her immaculate figure. Vanity, sans sanity.

Move in with her twenty-seven dates, public outings, picnics, and parent meetings later. You lie with her on a Sunday, happily entangled on a tiny mattress in the room with a view; one that begs and pleads to be filled with furniture.

If I told you ‘I love you,’ you wouldn’t believe me, would you?

Her voice is a choir; mezzo-sopranos in harmony, smooth as whiskey, hypnotic in delivery. Her “good morning” is a concise vocal concerto that, when coupled with the flash of her eye bulbs, is akin to a jazz piece. An audiovisual inspiration.

I could never believe it, You whisper without doubt.

That’s why I love you, You hear through closed eyes.

Her voice’s conductor composes those three words so they’ll reverberate in your head’s echoing halls ‘til the crescendo collapses. Her white tank-top of purity clings only half as tightly as your arms around her. The Sunday morning light crawls onto you two, as you do unto her.

You go on the first date.

She’s an Egyptian queen revived for your marveling while you share time in fine Italian dining. She shines for you, elaborating on her hopes and list of aspirations as her chins sits upon her limp wrist. Her lips press inward, instinctually. You quell your stutter when she wants to know all about your life and your hopes. Everything you tell her is given full attention, from your miseries to your gratitude to all those who waited, prayed, as you squandered months of life and possibilities in half-way homes and that one clinic that causes you to cringe.

She sympathizes, smiling sublime comfort that soothes old wounds.

You were a father for 77 hours. She tells you afterward of her decision, with emphasis on her. Her bob becomes the bordering to a shimmering TV set turned to the devastating live news announcement; a close-up of a gorgeous, remorseless, anchor, delivering the details of death in taciturn tedium, as if it were the grocery list being read. When news of a dead child is told to the tune of a Charlie Parker set, with such a luminous being the source of the broadcast, you don’t know how to react. You leave to find a way, but only uncover a six-iron; it allows for a voluminous and crashing catharsis, all but ruining the walls of Sunday morning’s room. She tries to calm you down. Amid your irritating glaze of tears, your misplaced rage, you don’t see her in time to halt your broken-hearted swing.

The damage entails a coincidental twenty-seven stitches.

You ask for her name, cocking your head pointlessly, while your winning grin saves you.

Elizabeth, Her symphony says.

Her skin is soft to the eye’s touch; an unblemished milky landscape untarnished by man’s explorations, but demanding to be appreciated. You buy her a Manhattan that’ll sit unsipped. Her hand becomes your fingers’ first of many adventures on her surface. It feels like the fine side of satin, as suspected.

You find her in the bedroom. She doesn’t say sorry, and neither do you. Allowing her defenses to fall, she sheaths her dagger, letting you sidle beside her. You share a short time seeing your different lives split off and shatter outside Future’s frosted window. You plainly explain, You don’t have to go.

Affections are shown just once more, before she storms out the door. Without hearing remorse sung for you by her chorus, your life becomes punctuated by your old haunts and failings. Dirty alleys drenched in fluorescence: stage lights to your horrorshow. Your child’s now but a blip in your mind, Imagination’s cradle rocking it slow, never to know anything but its father’s mental confines. Stolen life defines it, courtesy of a mother unprepared and unreasonable, blessed with beauty, but not ready to wreck it. The woman of your dreams came to life and ruined it.

Sunday morning leaves for the afternoon shift. Locked in tight, two lovers exist before their rift. A draft drifts in. A chill spills inside, but you refuse to shift or make the lunge for the blanket on the floor.

You wouldn’t lift a lash.

The twin mattress, a purchase of thrift with disregard to space is the lovers’ last place where they embraced love’s gift.

A Month, a Season, and Tonight

Beams across the spectrum are scanning;
Dancing to the meticulous echoing notes.
Soft spoken tones emphasize meaning.
The harmonizing, so hypnotizing,
Make the moment enchanting.

We’re the last ones, you know?
The others having fled the floor,
Perhaps an hour ago or more.
Finding haven in one-night rooms,
To put on a shy and awkward show.

Delicate sways from side to side,
Staying silent as the song speaks.
Plans upwards of four weeks
Have led us exactly to this spot,
Now open to a truth we’d prefer hide.

We know that separation is close;
Left with a month, a season, and tonight,
After which an eviction will be imposed.
Naiveté tells us we can erect a fight
To an ending which everyone knows.

My chin finds familiar grounds to rest,
Atop your head which is dug into my chest.
All the clocks have the same request:
Exit to the right, have a nice night.

Before we bid the building adieu,
We steal away, so not to be seen,
Flying through corridors labyrinthine.
Finally finding a room that’ll do,
Fit to engage in a typical taboo.

Blurs and fades of time and space.
Care and worries evade this place.
As locks fall due to quick handiwork,
A tussle and ruffle leave a ripped shirt.
A maneuver or two manages the hook,
Innocent eyes can’t help but a look.
Impish grins of what has been seen,
The rest to follow runs like a routine.
Contact nears, dashing all fears.
A bite of the lip, a nibble of the ears.
Eyes closed shut ‘til they open wide.
Gasps signal the entrance inside.
Only minutes of privacy guaranteed,
Necessitate utmost precision and speed.
The savagery is a mask for their love.
For every tender kiss; a push and a shove.
The rhythm increases, sensation never ceases.
A higher rate would leave them both in pieces.
An unspeakable feeling as they share a glance;
Two young bodies realizing a true romance.
Intimate doings with a modern day twist,
They seem to have an unholy handle of this.
Expert practitioners on just the fifth try,
He must struggle to muffle her cry.
She maximizes her grip, no scream let slip.
In the end, it all comes to a fine conclusion.
Mutual satisfaction in the dim seclusion.
Time is running out on this delight.
A month, a season, and tonight.

I'll Meet You in Dreams

I'm in a place I've seen before. I've never been there, per se, but I have seen it. I think I'm in a level of a video game that I've played before, something like a World War II game. I'm walking along, carefully watching my feet, planting on foot in front of the other as if I'm doing a sobriety test.

You're there above me, to my right, walking along a ledge like a gymnast on the balance beam. Your hair is down, aside from a few hair clips, and the winds that come along blow it around and give you the aura of a goddess. As in most dreams, I don't know how I know things, I just know them. I'm taking you to the train station to see you off. This I know, though neither of us have made mention to it. The carnal thoughts in my mind begin to multiply, and I can barely hold back my feelings for you.

You begin asking me conditional questions, "Would you love me if..."

To each one I say, "Yes." To each "Yes" your smile grows brighter than all the sun's rays. I've never seen you smile that big in reality, and the sight causes me to freeze in my steps. You're so incredibly beautiful when you smile like that.

We turn the corner and find ourselves at platform where we must go our separate ways. You turn to me. The tension between us grows. Your face flushes. I look at your lips; a lighter shade of rose. I have so many things to say, but there's no need. We both know it's inevitable now. We know it's now or never. We move closer than ever.

Our lips, about to come together at last. My heart races, knowing it's you I'm about to feel. The first encounter is ever so brief, with my bottom lip brushing your top. We separate and look at each other in surprise. We've finally kissed. Now let's never stop. Let our next one last forever. My left hand find the bottom of your back, the right one finds your thigh.

This is the greatest feeling in my life. We're not thinking, we're just doing. That's how we know what is between is real. I make my way to your neck but then it strikes me: I can go no further. I must come to halt. You have to go and so do I. Our chins hover just above each other's shoulders. We must depart.

More than anything, I want to commit the greatest sin, to just to stay with you and touch my lips to your skin.

Instead, I smile at you in a reassuring way. At the very least, we've taken that next step, and for that I should be happier than any man alive. One last look into your eyes and I take my leave. As good as this dream is, I must go, I must go wake up. I leave you standing there, watching me walk away. We can't see each other now, but we both know we're smiling.

And then I wake up.
_______________________

I walk out of my room and into the kitchen, looking for a midday snack. Before I reach the fridge, I look out the back door and see you there. You've returned to me. I can't believe it, to be honest, and I just stare with a slack-jaw in your direction. You're shooting me that smile from that night at the train station. That smile breaks me from my spell. I rush to the door and jump outside to see you. You take a step forward and we meet. We embrace in a full body bind. I just keep thinking in my head, "I love you, I love you, I love you." I pull back so I can get a look at your face.

Though it's only been one day in between my dreams of seeing you, it's felt like ages. You're wearing those glasses that I adore, the ones that make you look devastingly brilliant, which you are.

You begin asking a thousand questions. I cock my head to the right as I listen to you, barely hearing the questions, but losing my breath at the soothing and comforting sound of hearing your voice again. I nod my head and recall saying, "Really?" to something you say. The only question I remember fully is when you ask if I saw you in the paper.

"I did. It was lovely."

This sudden surprise appearance has caught me off-guard, however, and I realize it's but a dream again. You're slipping away from me quickly. Your visage fades to white. I'm losing you again, with only a fleeting memory to take with me.

I love you dearly. Goodbye.

I've awoken.

Patience

I had thought looking into the past brought nothing but pain.
But then I looked past that one day
And found the past wasn't all the same.
At last, I found happiness and laughter.
Now I am, for the time, at peace with the matter.

I'm reinvigorated with the idea
That something was and always will be there.
I still care.
Our connection is unbreakable;
Something we will forever share.

I was myself to you, not a character in a play.
That’s the person I want to be
All the time, everyday
I love being myself with you.
With no one else can I be that way.

Patience will be my virtue.
Because I know deep in my heart,
No matter how far apart,
You’ll always be a part of me.
Something I knew from the very start.

Between My Car and Your House

I found out that I’m not as confident as I had thought
It was a feeling I had but also a feeling I fought
And between my car and your house I was caught
Your love had been my goal, all I sought
But all my efforts failed that night, came to naught

Later I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you”
But by then it was too late
You were in love with someone new
Call it bad luck or call it fate
I haven’t a clue
And that’s what I hate

Am I meant for you and you for me?
Did I ruin the chance for that to be?
At this point I honestly do not know
But I just can’t bear to let you go
And not so easy are you to forget
So I refuse to stop, to never quit

Something keeps me from saying goodbye

The fact that, to me, you are perfect
This and the possibility that you feel the same
Are the things that I suspect
Keep me from losing hope and fuel the flame
To my burning love

I love you true and pure
And to be with you would be the cure
To all the ills in my life
To think that one day you could be my wife
What a wonderful thought and wishful thinking
And yet it’s just a dream, and leaves my heart sinking

So I can go on trying to explain
But what I want to say is really simple and plain
I’ll shout it to you in the pouring rain
If that’s what you’re into
That you’re beautiful in so many ways I cannot count
And make me laugh with jokes of an endless amount

I want to be with you forever
Because my chances of meeting someone better
Are next to never.