MayVaneDay Studios

Archive ⋙ Poetry 



published: 10-26-2019


a marathon runner, come close to the finish line
thoughts full of impending victory
mouth waters for cheap wine

but the goalposts suddenly sprout feet
and take up a race of their own
all the while taunting defeat

and the other runners catch up to where I scramble
the goal post flickers back for a moment-
and I trip, and underfoot I'm trampled

left in the dust, a bruised and bloody mess
stumbling forward, ragged beast on last leg
struggling to regain a semblance

of what I've lost.

I wait for you on the street corner
light just as yellow as the note in my hand
and as dim as the future of which I'm the owner

the autumn breeze blows fierce against the bitter night sky
and the leaves blow around
vagrants passing by

and then I see you there.

a thousand different escapades sworn under the moon
eyes of all colors, means of all kinds
but never did I think my time would come so soon

her hair is down
a frame the color of her emotions
a perpetual frown

she smiles only for me.

twin magnets, sudden embrace
familiar scent as I breathe her in
tongue tied, stumbling through unfamiliar grace

she merely responds with a smirk and says,
"here, take my hand.
I know a way to start again."

how do you fit a person through a keyhole?
it's easy, if only you know how.
you break them down into pieces, strip out their soul
and slip them in like a whisper, like breathing a sound

the cords on the raft glisten in the moonlight
as we tighten them one last time
abandoning all at the banks, prepared for parents' fright
I am forever yours, and you are mine

and we set off down the river Styx
lie down and watch the leaves on the surface spin
silver and steady, glimmering Nyx
consoling us for the mess we've found ourselves in

forced to choose between tyrannical home
and exile into the world to foray
I cast myself out into lands unknown
because I've decided it's not my time to decay

the tunnel entrance draws near
and together we tangle ourselves
my hand rests close to her ear

fingertips, soft temple skin underneath
where I would have gladly worshipped more
gladly be a heathen

clammy skin, lips bidding each other goodnight
a shared pair of lungs, empty in wait for the other side
we squeeze shut our eyes and pray for welcoming light