Concerning the Moon and Time

My fingers won't press down on the keyboard,
because they know I will write something concerning you.
If they could talk,
if they could move,
my hands would stretch and skid as far from here
as possible.
Being attached to me means mourning over you.
I couldn't live without my fingers,
without my bones that twist and groan.
So for the sake of saving them,
I won't write about you.
I stopped thinking about you.
That is a lie.
Stop writing about him, now!
There was once a time,
I thought I was drowning.
The waves had churned me round and round
until I was unsure of which direction the sky was.
I remember thinking about you,
NO!
Because you once said that you
were the ocean,
because no matter what was lost during the day,
the moon always came out at night.
He was your only friend.
Please stop, Gentry.  You're making it worse.  
I wish I could be poetic,
and say things about people like Tennyson
or express feelings through verses like Shakespeare.
But I am just a girl,
with a head full of thoughts that never seem to come out right.
My keyboard must be broken,
or maybe my hands must have a mind of their own.
And yet here I am,
as fragmented as Time itself.
I am ticking backwards each moment,
into thoughts of you.

 

Move on.

Not even the moon can stop Time.

 

 

 

Wailing Wall

I read a book called 'The History of Love'.

But it wasn't about you and I. 

That's okay, though.

Nothing seems to be these days.

I guess you can't hear me over the wave of her sighs or the wind through her hair.

I guess you can't hear me over the way your favorite song is the one she showed to you.

 

I can't even hear myself through my thoughts of you.

These last few years that I've loved you have been like suffering from amnesia.

I've forgotten everything that matters because I thought you were all that did.

I wanted out of that prison called 'Loving You From a Distance",

but now I've gone to a prison of swipe, delete.

I guess everything really is forgotten after high school.

If you searched my heart for sentences, they would all be yours.

I would write them on a slip of paper,

and fly the sky to Jerusalem.

The Wailing Wall for lamentations of sorrow and grief.

For God to save our souls.

I'd write the things I never said to you.

Lined paper doesn't seem to fit.

I'd say something like, "I can't be your friend,"

or, "Nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you."

I'd say, "I love you," and "I wish I didn't love you."

I'd say, "Goodbye."

Because there is never victory in goodbye.

There is only surrender.

So here I am; surrendering.

Like the Joshua James song: "Should have known, that they'd be right."

Because they were right when they said I should have given in a long time ago.

But I was and am so lucky to love you. 

I'm just not so fortunate to have you feel the same. 

Does anyone ever get what the want?

You still don't?

Does God hear me?

I thought you were the only one that did.

 

 

 

The Wailing Wall of Jerusalem.