Posts Tagged ‘Another time another place

20
Nov
14

I can’t pretend

I can’t

Pretend

It doesn’t

Hurt,

Even though

It’s not supposed to,

And I’m not

Even allowed to hurt,

Because it’s not

My right to

Own the hurt

To begin with.

I get it.

I understand.

But I still

Hurt,

And I still

Ache

For everything

We didn’t have-

It’s still mine,

In my dreams,

And I’m keeping it all,

Along with the memories.

There’s only so much

I can

Let go of,

Publicly

Or privately,

So the rest

Remains

All mine,

No matter what.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 20, 2014

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18
Nov
14

The other shoe

As far as I’m concerned,

The other shoe

Can go

Fuck itself.

No more shoes-

Dropping,

Or otherwise.

Fuck the shoes,

And how they ruin

The floors

Of my heart,

How they scuff

My soul

And trample

My love.

I don’t want them around

Anymore,

Not even sandals.

I just want

To be

Barefoot,

Naked,

And alone

With you

Again,

And for forever.

Fuck the other shoe.

Screw both shoes.

I want you.

But leave the shoes

Outside

By the door,

And away from me-

Away from us.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 17, 2014

23
Feb
14

Enough red wine

After

Enough red wine

And a bit

Of sad music,

I’m ready

To write

About every broken heart

I’ve ever experienced.

The memories return

Quickly,

Rushing to the surface,

Faster than I can

Open another bottle

To drown them again.

Once awakened,

Back from the dead,

Pulled out

From underneath

My happiness,

They will not

Shut up,

They will not

Leave me alone-

And I am

Powerless

To stop them.

Each hurt,

Each lie,

Each kiss,

Each tearful goodbye with fingers entwined, standing in the doorway of her apartment, begging for another chance to show her I can change and be the man (or boy) she wants me to be…

Each failure

To keep her

Longer.

 

Once the bottle is empty

And the music is

Playing,

It’s as if

She said goodbye

Tonight,

Even though

She said goodbye

Twenty years ago,

Or ten years ago,

Or yesterday.

She’s gone,

But her memory

Is alive-

Every one of them.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 23, 2014

24
Jan
14

I remember why I can’t forget

I can

Remember

A lot to things

About our

Us-

The feel of her

Skin

On my fingertips,

My tongue,

Or pressed against

My body,

Sweaty

And shaking.

I can

Smell her

On the winds

Of my memory-

Her favorite

Lotion

Mixed with

Sweat

And kisses

All over her

Body.

The feel of her

Teeth

Against my tongue

As it searched

For more,

And the smell

Of her

Hair

Filled my nostrils,

While my arms

Pulled her

Trembling body

Tighter against mine,

And her hot breath

Burned

My neck.

But mostly I remember her and her sweetly crooked smile, and the slightly bucked teeth that would appear below her upper lip when she grinned, or laughed her ever-so-slightly too loud laugh.

I remember

How

She made me feel-

Whether good or bad.

 

I remember why I can’t forget.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 24, 2014

20
Jan
14

I’ve stopped trying

I’ve stopped trying

To stop

Trying

And wanting

Things

To be different.

Things aren’t

Different

And I’ve accepted that,

Since I can’t

Change

Anything

But how I deal

With the reality

Of us.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 20, 2014

24
Jul
13

Can’t stop

I can’t

Stop caring,

I can’t

Stop hurting,

But I have to

Start living

Again-

Just like you

Already have.

You’re gone

Forever,

I see that

Now.

They say

That we learn

From our pasts,

But I’ve learned

Nothing,

Except love

Is always

Imperfect.

“Life goes on”,

Doesn’t it?

I hope so

Because I have to

Go on living-

I did

At least

Learn

That much

From you.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

July 24, 2013

12
Jun
13

For her

She lays in a bed

Of twisted sheets,

Curled

In a blanket,

With her dark hair

A mess,

Across her face

And neck,

Spilling onto the pillows.

Her sparkling dark eyes,

Hidden by sleepy eyelids,

Half closed to the sunlight

Coming in through the window,

Burst into life

As soon as they open-

Like shimmering pools of water

Or precious jewels.

Her lips are perfectly shaped

And colored,

The bottom lip

Frequently

Pinched between her teeth,

In a playful

Look of innocence and flirtatiousness

That leaves a permanent impression

On all who are lucky enough

To see her face.

As she kicks off the blanket

And moves

To her other side,

Exposing her

Beautiful skin and slender body,

The stillness of the room

Is awakened

By her elegance

And beauty-

Bringing the morning

To a rapturous beginning.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson




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