Indelible

I can

Still

Taste

The tears

That ran down your face

And eventually made their way

To your slender neck,

Where they met

My lips.

I can

Still

Feel

The silent

Sobbing

That made your chest

Rise and fall,

Your breath

Short and heavy,

Until huge gasps

Made your lungs fill

Again.

I can

Still

Remember

How

Your upper lip

Curled

Slightly

To reveal your teeth,

And a playful spirit

The first time

A hug

Lasted

A little too long.

The living photograph,

Etched

Into my memory,

As indelibly

And permanently

As any of my broken bones

Or scars-

Your fingerprints

Tattooed

To my soul.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

May 2, 2017

Just Lay There

Just lay there

And let

Feel 

Around

Inside you. 

You can

Keep your clothes on

And just look

At me,

Stare with wide open eyes

And dilated pupils

Open to receive

The light shining

From our touch

And tangled lives.

Let me

Feel

Your lips

Quivering and trembling

From across theroom,

Across the bed,

Against my neck.

Let me feel

You

Blossoming

Into a new spring

And light

Of loving.
Timothy Vance Jackson

April 28, 2017

Rip

Go ahead

And rip it

Off,

Yank it,

Tear it quickly,

I don’t care

If it takes

The hair

And the skin,

Just rip it off

And get this awkward

Silent suffering

Over.

Pull the bandages

And all the tape

Off

In an inelegant and impatient

Jerk,

And let

The bleeding

Begin

Anew,

So that

The healing

Can finally

Begin.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 7. 2017

I *am* alive

But

The thing is-

I’m not

Dead,

Yet.

I’m still

Here,

For now.

Due,

In no small part

To sheer stubbornness

And fear

Of the other

Options.

I’m not

A survivor

Of strength,

Or determination,

As much as

I am a survivor

Of paralysis-

Too scared

To move,

Too afraid

To do anything,

Too committed to the starry-eyed Piscean ideals of love and desire and wanting to have things be the way they ought to be because it is the right way.

I don’t

Keep breathing

Because

I am

Conquering fear,

But because

I am

Unwilling

To be

More bold.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 5, 2017

Trace the words

I want

To trace the words

Across

Your naked body

With my

Fingertips,

Exploring

Your blank

Page

With each thought

And sentence.

I want

To write

Sonnets

On your

Skin,

And make you

Shiver

With each punctuation.

I want

To express

My passion

For you

As your skin

Prickles

And your body

Arches

To meet my

Touch,

And all the words

That come

Pouring

Out of me

And onto

Your flesh.

I want

You

To become

My volume

And chapter,

My anthology

Of verse,

And collection

Of dreams.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 6, 2016

Seven letters

I used to believe that

Love lasted forever,

And I suppose

A part of me still does,

Possibly,

But I’ve realized that

Forever is a lot bigger

Than its seven letters.

Who can truly understand

The meaning

Of infinity

Of time?

Unlike the billions of Sagan’s stars,

Which are theoretically finite,

Love is somehow

Transcendant

And limitless,

Exceeding both time and space,

While our physical bodies

Are not.

I ache to believe

That

Love will last

Into an eternity

I can not fathom,

And will never feel,

But the practicality of heartbreak

Produces a cold and unfeeling reality

That suggests

Love is far less permanent than the dreams of an expanding universe that flows into a darkness that is unfettered by boundaries of physics or romance.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 16, 2016

I think

I just don’t see it happening-

That I’ll be able

To let go

Of the fear

Enough

To be open

To love or loving

After this.

And yet,

Because I am

Who I am,

And love

Is

The oxygen in my blood

Keeping me alive

Most days,

I can’t

Believe

The fear

Or the pain

That is chewing on me now

Can really

Keep me

From doing what I’ve always done-

Letting the heart

Talk the brain into

Suspending the disbelief

That “this time might be different.”

I already know

I’ll find a way

To ignore

My own warnings

And proclamations of

“Never again!”

For me,

To live

Without love,

Is to die,

And though death sounds welcoming

At times,

I’m probably still

More afraid of death

Than another heartbreak.

I think.