dream-catcher

---

I want to pretend that I’m still strong without the season’s changes
but the infatuation stage has passed and I’m left with crumbling dust;
in between my fingers, taking careful sips of the glass,
I’m thinking of you from afar again this cold downfall.
and even the walls speak in volumes, pages missing from my diary,
threads of a Dream-catcher are coming apart in rumbled fashions tonight;
in my mind he said those things, of some kind of wonderful
I thought I was ready to give myself—I was waiting for this kind of love.

---

I had a silence breaking in August heat
and problem with the eclipsing sun that hid your face;
there were ripening fruit, beneath October’s still wind,
the taste too mature for me.
I had rapture in the midst of April’s showers,
times of sweet-reminisces caught in-between dusk and dawn;
if there was a rose that I missed in the garden of metaphors,
eventually, it pricked my fingers with a vengeance.

---

You told me, I was a poet of your heart,
verses too naïve to hold you still for too long;
so, I tried to make myself better by keeping your warmth
despite the pain it causes along my body.
if I had Spanish lullabies under the willows,
and if Ophelia was as mad with passion as I;
my words were the midst of an affair I have yet to remember
between the sultry deceptions of September.