I was only 11 I recall when I found you sitting on the edge of the earth
looking like you always did.
You had that splendid sadness about you that has changed it's tides and now
you are a moment alone,
And you are my home.
Hard to speak to you, harder still to let you know how much I love you,
But you know I think. I can hope that you can tell by how I look up at you.
I want to move on into the night,
Still carrying a piece of love in my heart,
I want to carry on, still with me a piece of you in my body and a vision of you
in my sleep.
But the night looms heavy like weights around my ankles,
And I starve for a drink of your water,
For a touch of your lips.
I starve for a final moment with you,
A second chance to reach underneath your shirt and touch your back,
Close my eyes and feel your flesh,
Capturing it in my memory,
So that all of the nights from here on out when I am alone,
I can picture this, the feeling of your soft skin on my hand.
I let it out with a cry to heaven,
I let it out with a tear,
With a tear on my hand and a scar on my heart,
I let it out with a dream of what should be, but what will never be.
I carry myself on into the blossoming night,
Walking under streetlights to smoke a cigarette with bags packed,
And memories on my mind.
All of my life flashes in front of my eyes,
All of my times with you run away from me.
Life moves on.
And so do we

 

Your Time For Bleeding

That is how it all started in a stream of love, 
In the touch of serenity – in the morning sun. 
So the colors fade to the green and the black of the night,
Of the tides on the sands, 
And the call of a wandering seagull in flight. 
I can hold on to you in this morning,
In a memory of fascination ,
And in the gentle song of a guitar in the distance. 
I will dram up some dreams for you,
Place them in your had for your care.
There will be water in your eyes,
And roses underneath your feet,
There will be thorns in your side,
But they will never make you bleed,
Your time for bleeding has gone,
And the time for celebration has begun.

   by Chris Aguilar