Lullabies (2 page)

There were times when I was with him and it was too much. Does that make sense? When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.

During those moments, I wanted so desperately to leave
—
to go home, walk into my bedroom, and shut the door behind me. Crawl into bed and lay there in the dark, tracing the outline of my lips with my fingers
—
replaying everything he said, everything we did. I wanted to be left alone
—
with nothing other than my thoughts of him.

He’s Leaving

My nine

is your noon;

     I’m just packing now
—

your winter,

my June.

     wish I could pack you.

Patience

Patience and Love agreed to meet at a set time and place; beneath the twenty-third tree in the olive orchard. Patience arrived promptly and waited. She checked her watch every so often but still, there was no sign of Love.

Was it the twenty-third tree or the fifty-sixth? She wondered and decided to check, just in case. As she made her way over to the fifty-sixth tree, Love arrived at twenty-three, where Patience was noticeably absent.

Love waited and waited before deciding he must have the wrong tree and perhaps it was another where they were supposed to meet.

Meanwhile, Patience had arrived at the fifty-sixth tree, where Love was still nowhere to be seen.

Both begin to drift aimlessly around the olive orchard, almost meeting but never do.

Finally, Patience, who was feeling lost and resigned, found herself beneath the same tree where she began. She stood there for barely a minute when there was a tap on her shoulder.

It was Love.

..................................

“Where are you?” She asked. “I have been searching all my life.”
“Stop looking for me,” Love replied, “and I will find you.”

Passing Time

I feel the end is drawing near,

would time be so kind to slow?

You are everything to me, my dear,

you are all I really know.

But as I sit and wait and fear

and watch the hours go
—

Everything that happened here

happened long ago.

No Other

There is someone I keep in my heart
—
I love him and no one else. It is a love that will only die with me.

You may ask,
death could be some time away
—
what if from now to then, you love someone new?

Well I can tell you, there is only one love. If any person claims to have loved twice in all their life
—
they have not loved at all.

Well Wishes

My love, are you well,

past the sea and the swell,

out in the world, where danger is fraught.

Amidst the doom and the gloom,

and the hospital rooms,

where hearts can be bartered and bought.

There are words to betray

and the things that we say,

can sometimes be snappy and short.

Where the strangers we meet,

take us down one way streets,

and forgetting is something we’re taught.

Where earthquakes will reign,

between terror and planes
—

and colds are so easily caught.

Sad Things

Why do you write sad things?
he asked.
When I am here, when I love you.

Because someday, in one way or another, you will be taken from me or I you. It is inevitable. But please understand; from the moment I met you, I stopped writing for the past. I no longer write for the present. When I write sad things, I am writing for the future.

A Pilgrimage

Always seeking,

each moment fleeting;

this is where

my soul will rest.

With you I’ve fulfilled,

our destined meeting;

my tired hand,

against your chest.

This is the heart,

that keeps mine beating
—

these are the eyes

that mine know best.

Loving You

I saw him the other day. His arms around another girl, his eyes when met with mine
—
were slow in their recognition.

I wonder if he remembers what I once told him.

I will love you forever.

He had smiled at me sadly before giving his reply.

But I am so afraid you may one day stop.

Now all these years later, I am the one who is afraid. Because I love him, I still do. I haven’t stopped. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I ever will.

And/Or

I once wrote a book and called it
And/Or
. It was about choosing between either, or having the option of both.

I’m not sure why I wrote it. Perhaps it had something to do with how I looked at life. My lack of care. My indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.

Then I met you and it changed me. For once in my life, there was something I wanted. So much.

For me, that was the death of the word,
or;
because now, there is no other. It was the end of the word,
and;
for I love only you.

Devotion

He is more to me

than I.

I love him more

than I can bear.

So much at times

I wish to die,

so I can end this

on a high.

His Kiss

He has me at his every whim;

everything starts with him.

To all the boys I used to kiss
—

everything stops with his.

Us

I love him and he loves me.

We spend every moment together. When sleep parts us, we often meet in our dreams.

I like to take naps throughout the day.
Like a cat
, he says. He is a cat person.

He thinks my eyes are beautiful and strange. He has never seen eyes like mine up close before.

He says they look at him with daggers when he has done something wrong. Like when he forgets to order olives on my half of the pizza.

He thinks I am especially cute when angry.

We argue over whose turn it is to put the DVD in the player. Sometimes no one wins and we end up watching bad TV. Which is never really a bad thing.

He never imagined he would be with someone like me.

Now, he says, he can’t imagine himself with anyone else.

..................................

We’re kids, aren’t we?
Yes, kids with grown-up powers.

Signposts

What if certain people were signposts in your life? Representations of good or bad. Like an old friend you see across a crowded street, one you wave hello to, before hurrying on. The last time you saw them, things took a turn for the worse and, as sad as it may seem, they have unwittingly become an omen
—
a precursor of bad luck.

Or that one person whom you rarely speak with, who can always be found right where you left them. You carry their smile with you like a talisman
—
for whatever reason, their presence in your life will always bring the promise of better days.

Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.

You know he is a symbol of your weakness, your Kryptonite. How he rushes in like wildfire and burns through everything you worked so hard to build since he last left you in ashes.

So you do the only thing you know how
—
you put as many miles as you can between him. As many roadblocks and traffic lights as you can gather. Then you build a bold red stop sign right on your doorstep, knowing all the stop signs in the world could never hold him
—
they can only ask him to stay awhile.

Mementos

You were none,

and now you’re all;

your worth will rise,

the more I fall.

Like these mementos

we have stored,

once were things
—

now so much more.

Keys

Hearts don’t have locks, she said.

Some do, he replies. There are people who give away the key to theirs for safekeeping. Others are mistrustful and give out several keys, just in case. Then there are those who have misplaced them but never cared to look.

What about your heart, she asked.

He smiled.

Your words are the key to mine, he replied.

Never forget your words.

Déjà Vu

I saw it once,

I have no doubt;

but now can’t place

its whereabouts.

I try to think it,

time and time;

but what it is,

won’t come to mind.

A word, a scent
—

a feeling, past.

It will not show,

though much I’ve asked.

And when it comes,

I soon forget
—

this is how it felt,

when we first met.

Clocks

Here in time,

you are mine;

my heart has not

sung louder.

I do not know

why I love you so
—

the clock knows not

its hour.