Litkicks Message Board Archive

about a boy

Posted to Poetry




his fishing pole in the back of my car
his hooks and weights filling up the random spaces
the small spaces of my life
where he has left pieces of himself
i can smell, hear, and see him
in the notes by my bed
the pictures in my journal
the empty space he filled in my heart
feeling the absence of him
he like the ocean we slept and kissed to
the constant presence- intense and consistent
haunting and drawing in
so a part of the experience of him i hardly understand it
until he is away
and my ears are burning for just one more wave
one more pounding of water against sea rocks
to fill what it means to be without
and my life feeling like it is opening up
right before my eyes
i never knew it could be this good, this beautiful
not lacking in tension or unknown
in fact, full of risk and sacrifice
but how much more real is it with the balance i am living
between the foreign and the natural
uncertainty and hope
longing and freedom
growth and adventure
he so different than i yet so incredibly
right and harmonizing
taking turns playing music of carefree tunes
and angst-ridden melodies
him creating and me relating
he bringing out my heart and me bringing them both deeper
i walked with his hand in mine
silently staring into his grey eyes in wonder
can't even smile because i am so shocked
caught off guard
by the face i see reflected in them
so eager
this man who lingers and penetrates this
often guarded heart i have
i wonder when he broke in
i watched him build our first house out of
drift wood, sea rope, tents, tarps, and rocks
and i wonder how it can get any better than that