Liquid Sky

i met a girl once, and wanted to impress her with poetry. failing that, horribly, I wanted to impress myself writing poems about her. failing that, i took a nap. this is what happened. sort of.

And so you awake,

Drenched in sweat,

Liquid with languid love’s lost memories,

You shoot up

Like a shotgun.

Your eyes blink in perfect time

With the pulling of the trigger.

And when the gun goes off

Your body bolts upright

Like a perfect gunshot

Only instead of blood

Painting the ceiling sealed above you,

It's dreams.

 

You suddenly remembered then every detail of your entire life.

It went something like this:

 

You sat across from her

Sitting Indian-style, setting boundaries

Within borders

From one end of a poorly lit diner booth

To the other

Singing together every good song that had ever come out

Between the years of 1981 and 1989

Over two coffee cups rapidly cooling

One filled with coffee, one with tea

You found your eyes groping

Into the incandescent ink of her eyes

Every time

You didn’t mean to.

And she sat with her big book of Chinese fortune telling

And you clutched your hands over your cigarette pack

When it struck you like a fist to the teeth

That you could stay there and be happy

Every day forever

Until life did not want you

Just listening to her and anything she said or did not say

When gravity suddenly reversed

And you began to fall

Upwards and onwards

Through the ceiling

Falling forever

You should be afraid but she would smile

And you would listen to her until you no longer could

Until you were part of the sky.

 

“That’s not how it went,” I told you.

“I mean, come on, you know you can’t drink coffee, or, in your case, tea or whatever, in your dreams. Eating, drinking, these are things that ground you to this reality from that one. They chain you to the place you are now. This. The waking world. I mean, f**k, it’s not rocket science. A*****e.”

“Besides,” she continued. “That wasn’t all of it. It also went like this”:

Reviews

[KillerWithWords]

"Kaching" is the sound my brain heard as i read your last line.
I'm trying to figure out where to place this piece.
In a library of humor? No it's too much a tragedy...
In a library of satire? No.... it's too serious.
In a library of romance? Na... it's too insensitive.

I guess we need to create a library for you, one which has everything.

!we'll keep all your works in the hallway...!
Hah, nice job.

[Francis Danger]

i think the idea of keeping work in "the hallway' as a metaphorical category is the BEST thing i have ever heard. beyond ever your kind words, that is awesome!

ps: thank you!

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

3rd line I was already saying wow, I really like it

[Francis Danger]

many thanks!

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

no thank you

[Shegazes Soft Blue]

I fell in love and then you snapped me out of it. I'm left desperately wondering what her account of the memory would be.

I enjoy reading your poetry. It's breezy; takes me in all directions and feels organic. Never strained. Beautiful.

[Francis Danger]

thank you, again. your words are as kind as they are helpful, and absolutely appreciated.