Tag Archives: regret

Babbling

In the quiet forest she rests, by the little creek, babbling like a baby,

like her little nephew whom she loves playing with and holding,

so warm and so sweet, not broken yet, not scraped empty like her.

A melancholy and longing synthwave song plays on her headphones,

and her heart aches for love and a place to rest her head, of a thoughts

quiet and sweet, like when she was a little girl, unselfconscious, free.

Once, she was an elfen queen in this forest, a whole galaxy inside herself,

an wizard with a ray gun, a dragon rider flying through the stars, the brave

knight saving her best friend from The Devil. She once feared The Devil.

She lays down, the earth soft and moist beneath her, the blue sky soft

through the lush and fanning fingers of the tall and eternal trees above,

and she lets the sadness and longing swirl and crash as waves inside her.

The longing, the melancholy, was the only sweet thing left inside her.

She lay there beneath the sky until the stars had come out, before going home.

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Divinity and a Mage (Emma)

I see her now, in my dreams, as the woman she is,

thin and lithe, with long red hair brighter than the sun.

I see myself as I was then, gaunt and callow, wisp of the wind,

madly in love with her, just like all the world, just like everyone.

Teenagers together, she an angel, me a chaos magician,

we fought the demons taking over, divinity and a mage.

High school was rife with darkness and the subterfuge,

and I fought with her, until Junior Year, now turn the page.

The chaos of my own tricks took me down, and I left her,

left the light, left all kindness, went over there to the other side.

Trying not to be weak, not lose, I lost myself to tricks and rage,

but her tears washed the sun, she was loving as heaven is wide.

So I see her now, in black jacket, faux fur lining, ear buds,

the singing of her own kind in the earbuds, still fighting.

And I’m back on her side, but afraid to call out, never be like it was.

But I love her, maybe I can holy again, this ship finally righting.

Look back, my angel, look back, maybe just a smile.

Maybe we can fight together again, side by side, brave.

I wish I could be the boy I was, who adored you like the sun,

I wish I could be the boy that didn’t become fear’s slave.

Look back, my angel, look back……….

Angel

The girl on the bike is outside my window.

She is there in the night whenever I wake.
Long honeyed hair haloed by the streetlight.
Navy blue hoodie, khaki shorts, her armor.
She is still 17, a spirit of restless, angry furies.
She is the thorn in my mind, prick of regret.
Spirit or her incanted avatar, still I feel shame.
She is still 17, and when I was 17 I left her behind,
I lay in bed sometimes, and see through her eyes.
The soft gold of streetlamps in empty suburban streets.
The hidden groves where stars crown her head.
What the moonlight reveals to the still of heart.
She loved me, Angel, a true companion in the night.
I led her on from a holy moment, kissing on Christmas Eve.
The snow falling in fat flakes, wet and veiling the world.
The moonlight in her hair, such starlight in her eyes.
Soon after I was gone, chasing a succubus that ruined me.
I sleep alone, and when I wake she is there outside.
On her silver and chrome BMX that she rode to Eden.
Bikes to run these streets and make kingdoms of them.
We didn’t have cars but we had the world as ours.
I watch her, want to call her in, but there’s no going back.
No forgiveness or recompense. No wiping it all away.
Those dark eyes remind me of what could have been.
The regret, the shame and guilt, never ending punishment.
Then she rides away, onto the angels and forbidden grace.
Her hood up, her hair tied up underneath it, free from me.
I am still here, having blown every chance, ruining myself.
She is free and adored by heaven, and I cannot follow.

The Girl Who Came Before Thunder

The mad heart flies to the to heaven,

to the eternal and tender blue above,

to the dreaming sky that can soothe

it’s sores and scars and pinprick kisses.

The stars where the soft angels singing

in the quiet moments when dreams

crashed on shores sparkling in moonlight

and a girl who came before thunder held me.

In my dark room, sleepless, stockpiling wonder

as the time trickles like blood from tips of pens

and the invocations and memories they write,

to make a roughshod heaven of my disgrace.

And the stars weep ice and cherry blossoms,

as I call her back, the last hurrah for innocence,

to the empty place in my bed, and I call back that kiss,

that came too late to save me, but was only sweetness before death.

Tender Kiss

I see her kiss her boyfriend goodbye, wave after him as he drives away.

               It is spring and things are warm and bright, the windows to their little

               Apartment across the way open, and I hear her sing to herself as she

               Goes about her day, doing her chores. It is a sweet, happy song.

 

               It is a sweet and happy song, that calls back another time, another life,

               Another world I try to think about or remember, though those times were

               Wonders and exquisite, and the woman who was there, whom I loved so,

               Was the only miracle, the only dream come true, in this life of mine.

 

               I look at her across the way, so young and full of light she vibrates and hums.

               I thought those memories buried, those times left behind, that pain soothed.

               But this young woman is so happy and so in love and such a joy to see and hear,

               That even know, that my lover is long lost, and I am long broken and left behind.

 

               That sweet and happy song is a tender kiss that draws the most bitter blood.

Party Down

August is the last kiss before she leaves.
The last part of you that in magic believes.
Blue and white bikini and her black hair wet.
That smile, this love, these days, place the bet
that she will stay, that love will grow,
and that August won’t pass into the fall we don’t know.
The night is humid and sultry and filled with booze,
and as you lay her down, as you kiss her, what is their to lose?
The stars the bridemaids to a momentary paradise and loss,
and the moon the priest that seals the deal in pentagram and cross.
The distant music, the hotness of her skin, the belief it will last.
The night sweet in the coming burns your eyes when it become the past.
Spin the galaxy like she did spin the bottle like the sun spins the earth.
Regret is a paradise reclaimed and made holy in divine curse and infernal worth.
If I could but be there again, falling asleep in her embrace, my head against hers,
to let go of the high and mighty ways of my anger and the joy it lashes out and defers.

Sun Gone Nova

A dream of passion in my youth,
a beauty, a dream, a distorted truth.
She was the sun I spun around.
Her voice the most glorious sound.

A euphoria of desire when I was young.
A peal of a bell for the first time rung.
I wanted her like a flowers wants the sun.
She was my everything. My only one.

 But years pass on, and the battles cost.
Dreams flicker out and madness is lost.
I just want a woman who is faithfully there.
That touches the face beneath the mask I wear.

That sun is nova, and I live in a shattered light.
Needing a friend and lover, not mad delight.
I hope I never see her again, let the past die away.
I hope someone true and tender comes my way.

Saturday Clothes

September chill, she pulls her blue coat close.
Dim gold of morning light, blue dress, white stockings.
Patent leather shoes. Her heart races at the thought of him.
The morning sun haloes her flaxen head.
Saturday, cool of autumn, chill of another year passing on.
The clear, cold waters of the creek running through the park.
They will sit together, and hold hands, and the trees will bleed.
They will kiss softly, tenderly, still sweet though almost grown.
The swing set as morning burns away and the sun grows so bright.
Still cool, 9 minutes out, though the light can show us the way.
She will sit and smile as he pushes her up towards the clouds.
They’re both dressed so fine before summer comes, and with it loss.
They will hold hands as he walks her home on a wide, tree lined street.
Wars burn heaven down in the afternoon, and desire rebuilds it at night.
A hug, and she will kiss his cheek, and then his brow, blue eyes like stars.
He will smile, and blush, and he will watch her go inside, everything perfect.
How I’ve tried to relive this moment, this innocence, in what came after.
How I’ve tried to remember the warmth of a cool autumn.