Steinmare or “Wherein the poet considers his late night circumstances and covets another’s non-stone extruding kidneys”

Among the dim lights and feathering rain of this city
There is a You that is breathing.

Inhaling oxygen and exhaling
Carbon dioxide and tears.
And dreams and fears too maybe.

Perhaps the You is already
Tucked deep within the many folds
Of sleep and blankets,
Socked toes curling and uncurling.

Perhaps the You is drinking
Steaming tea from some well worn mug
And listening to the rain in the darkness
From Your plant-strewn balcony.
Hearing the same midnight churn.
Swift tires on wet tarmac.

Perhaps the You is still out in the world,
Hair a drizzled damp mess,
Head fizzy and drumming,
The joyful stains of a night well spent
Streaming down Your face.

Well we’ll worry not,
The You and the Me.

Whichever the case may be,
And I am sure that this is true,
I will find the We
That is born of Me and You.

Close Your Eyes To Me

Storms make me think of you.
In bed at night
I catch the faint
scent of your hair.
I imagine the slight
flaring of your nostrils
As you sleep and I lie
More awake than ever.

I think it’s the wind
As it whips the rain against
The window. The howling of it.
It obscures the words that I
Cannot seem to even fit into my
Mouth, let alone push them
Out to you through the cold night air.
The air of a new year
seemingly destined to be
As emotionally dense and
Amorously unfrequented as the last.

The air is soupy with electricity and love.
The sky is milky with it and weeps.

Resolutions are mostly selfish
But this is the most selfish of them all;
To share my heavy heart with you
And hope that you shall not break it.

‘Nothing’s ever good enough for you’

Walking past tunnel entrances
That lead down to sea I imagine
Giant dark throats opening to
Swallow me wholly down.

I feel like a mouth full of broken glass.
Numbers written all over my hands,
I frantically pass them in front of my face.
This steady rain is treason on my
Shoulders. It is unwelcome flattery
On the back of my neck and down the
Inside of my coat collar.

Through the web of raindrops,
This tapestry of tears,
The lights make the world
Shimmery and effervescent.
Something to be cherished or despaired.

And I find myself down at the shoreline,
The water frothing and churning around
My ankles, lapping up the back of my calves.
The moon sways on the seas surface.
I plunge deep into the saturnine sky.
I am lost.

Falling from Love

Collectable raindrops are falling,
Each one unique and imperfect.
They are landing softly in my open palms,
Seeping into the recesses of my mind
Through my unblinking, upturned eyes.

This one is a mirror of you snoozing;
Sprawled in a lounge chair under a tree
In the garden of a long summer afternoon.
In your sleep you murmur and smile.

This droplet is you dancing in a pair of glittering high heeled shoes,
Your dress flying behind you,
The party around you a blur,
Your eyes transfixed and steady.

This one is a more violent red,
That one a deeper blue
with flashes of a lake, trees,
A young girl crying for her father,
And this one is dark and shrouded,
Its secrets hidden in the mists of obscurity.

I drink in this rainfall,
This rainbow of you,
Till I am saturated
And the droplets of your frowns
And your sleepless nights
Drop gently from my eyelashes and the tip of my nose.
Shivering, I wipe them on my sleeve.

But I am sick of it all now;
I am too full of you,
Weighing heavily on my ribs, my shoulders,
Filling up my lungs, my heart.
And all around it grows steadily colder
As the sun rises on another miserable day.