THOUGHTS THAT RHYME

i still feel crystal oceans turned to currents in your moon
i tried to hold the door for you but let it close too soon
i wonder where you are tonight beneath this open sky
i wonder if we’ll meet again the next time that i die

i wake to find no peace of mind but constant broken churning
lighting fights with gasoline and fleeing while they’re burning
and from a broken mountaintop looking down on what i’ve done
i’ll come to see, but way too late, that i am not the sun

and i am not the one who’s come to mend these broken bones
but i hope these watered words will drop on broken homes
and be a sweet reminder that there’s life inside each cell
and every single drop of rain has part in dousing hell

and hell is something that i’ve seen but just in flickered frames
safely from the audience, i snack on secret shames
i cry, i sing, i laugh along but when the credits roll
i find it’s time to go to sleep and off to sleep i go

and in my dreams i see your face, it’s smiling like the day
and like the dream and like the sky, it’s quickly gone away
i’m left to find my single self left staring at the man
who stares right back and blinks with me and follows hand to hand

and in this mirror where i stare i see my beard grown long
as my skin begins to wrinkle i can feel my heart grow strong
and the soul left stirring in my eyes still has time to boil
i reap the seeds of loneliness and plant them in the soil

and from this empty plot of land will grow my poetry
but so far it’s just branches so we’ll have to wait and see
if i can push up daisies from the lazy underground
and sprout new leaves to catch the breeze and mirror back its sound

we’ll see if this is possible, and what becomes of you
never in my presence, but forever in my view
if nothing else, the breeze is there, i feel it in my leaves
and if you ever stop to feel, i know you’ll feel it too

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

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