The breakup Jon Hillenbrand, February 7, 2009December 30, 2015 The blink of the stop light and the metronome of the wipers compete for control over the beat of my heart as I think of my final moments with her. I’m writing her features on my mind so I don’t forget everything important to me now. I feel her close breath on mine, but she’s gone, gone, gone and her image is a haunting ghost I’ll one day pretend to dismiss with an uncaring glance from the corner of my eye. But for now, I can drink in the loss. The dam I’ve built behind my eyes strains against the pressure of these rising tears. I let it fail. What shall I do once the snow is gone and the Christmas lights have faded to empty glass? How will I get by when the phone rings on that random Tuesday flooring me without her fingers to straighten my hair? Sad to want someone to love but to only see fog between the sky and the water, intermingling in their white veil, like the veil I’ll never lift across her face. The stop light blinks trails across my life which are swept away with each heartbeat. Poetry photography
Poetry What I Can Do October 29, 2011December 30, 2015 If you are too weak to walk, I’ll lift you on my shoulders. If you are too tired to laugh, I’ll sing you to sleep. If you are scared of your nightmares, I’ll conquor your demons. If you are hungry for contact, I’ll fill you with love. If your shoulders… Read More
Poetry How am I not myself? June 21, 2008December 30, 2015 I am an impostor standing alone secretly regarding the twenty-five kinds of gourmet waters available for purchase at prices similar to the wine. Ironically the granola-lined asphalt of the parking lot welcomed in my turbocharged Subaru with the ultra high performance tires, three inch exhaust and carbon fiber wing as… Read More
Poetry The future remains, as always, uncertain May 30, 2008December 30, 2015 I may not have all of the answers, but I know what I know. I’ve drunk lessons from the fire hose, most of it getting away from me. I’ve filled my cup with what I know, and periodically pour it most of the way out onto the pavement like tears… Read More
By the way, this didn’t happen to me. I just thought it out and it sounded dramatic/poetic to me, so I wrote it up and posted it here. But thanks for the comments of consolation.