Alone, not alone

A huge hammock, lazily swinging in the sun
One leg with toenails painted seafoam green,
hanging out of it, adorned with a silver anklet
that the light that keeps bouncing and flaring on...

A drink on the small table on the side
moisture condensing on cold glass
A colorful straw dipping into
a colorless liquid, half-filled with ice...

Smell of jasmine and a hint of aftershave
A light breeze to carry all away
sounds of the city, low, muffled
and a faint buzz of an adventurous bumblebee...

It's summer on the rooftop terrace
A moment frozen in time
I'm sleeping, day-dreaming, escaping,
To a reality that is only slightly different
                                               from my own...

Confession

The poetry I like the most
Is the poetry of my own

This too shall pass

Your heart can be broken once
You realize when you have to cut people off
mid-conversations
to go and find a place to hide
so you can cry in peace,
and seem to have forgotten how to
go back to sleep
when you wake up at 3am
with a taste of falling leaves
and earthworms in your mouth.

And didn't his mama teach him
Not to play rough in the house?
All that running around
Now off he went to play
somewhere else
and you're left with pieces
shattered, that once were whole.

Your heart can be broken twice
Yes, people wrote about this, you know.
What you didn't know was how flowers
would shrivel and turn to ash
when you'd walk past them,
and the pain would be a stagnant pool
waiting for you to fall back in
at the bottom of every staircase
you'd walk down.

Yet he was such a pretty little thing
You just tiptoed around
To be handled with care and
only wearing kid gloves
Never thinking not him but
you'd be the one
in need of protecting.

Your heart can be broken thrice
The fingers tightening around your lungs
made it clear for you, no doubt,
while you hyperventilated
trying to exhale the bitter smoke
of love now lost.
Cough and cough and out it goes
Leaving you brittle, weak,
this pathetic mess of a thing,
that you are too ashamed to talk about.

Your heart can be broken many times
Even when you're too old for this crap
that just makes you more brittle 
Break and mend, that's how these things work.
You always eventually heal,
will be skipping through life once again.
Whatever will remain are
maybe a handful of poems
that you'll think are a bit too dramatic
when you find yourself smiling
under the freshly minted sun.

When I'm happy

You'd go for a walk in the woods
where the trees are tall
and covered with moss.
The tangle of leaves would block the sun,
light reflecting in shadowy patches
on your face, on the trees and on the path
that would curve, steeply, into the darker depths.
A cool mist of yesterday's rain
and a smell of dirt and must
would hang, heavy, in the air.

You'd come across a stream,
suddenly and unexpectedly.
It would be narrow and mostly shallow
looking not all that impressive,
fast and chaotic though, very energetic.
You would see the pebbles within
    and larger rocks too
and the water would pool and jump
flowing, laughing, over and in between.
Sunlight would fall and bounce on every sprinkle
breaking into rainbows and sparkle.
You'd hear the water sing in splashes
burbling in casual invitation.
You'd watch it shuffle away fallen leaves,
branches, and eventually, to your surprise
the sadness from your heart.
You'd find yourself breathing easily again.
And with every tiny lizard you see
on the banks, on the rocks, sunbathing
you won't be able to help your spirits lifting.

If you leave right then, 
all will be well, gone and forgotten.
But if you instead linger
Trying to hold on to that feeling again
You will find out for sure
How a spring is just like fire
No second chances.