A collection of my poems, both old and new.
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"Amatista"
In my head,
in the collective memory
of my conscience,
she tumbles forward
like a one-winged bird
flapping in the awkward anticipation
of making imprints in the coming snow.
As we walk
I can feel her heartbeat through the palm
of her feathered hand.
I can feel it throb
like a pain revisited
on cold, numb days.
˗ˏˋ・。☆.・゜✭・. AUTHOR'S NOTES ✫・゜・。.・。. ✭
This one's about an old flame, an early muse, perhaps the first I ever truly loved. I wouldn't dare say that I broke her heart... merely that I was a disappointment. I simply wasn't able to inspire in her what she inspired in me.
When I returned from Latin America, we tried again, briefly, holding hands in the cold for just this one moment. But I was a broken thing then, even more so than before, and this is what I wrote that night when I knew that it was over.
Looking back, now, it wasn't her pain and brokenness I felt. She just held a mirror of my own. We poets always tell the truth, you see... except in those fragile moments when we're too busy lying to ourselves.
