Tag Archives: new

New

Standard

you tell me, you know
it’s a new city a new life
a new beginning
so if you want to try something new
i’d understand
if you happen to find someone cute
someone different 
i’d understand

what i don’t understand is 
every moment that i imagined
running my hands
on his torso and arms
fingertips reaching across hairs
stopping short of plucking
while i was holding her hand
fingers entwined with a teenage crush
that crushed early dreams of adulthood

and i don’t understand when
the first time i tasted her
i had no idea what i was doing
but i thought i almost touched his lips
his early stubble and unfortunately
smoke filled mouth taking me in
and closing when i try talking
about it to myself as i walk home later
and forget to call

and i don’t understand how
it actually took me this long
to realise what someone different
could be that someone different
could’ve been someone like him

what i do understand
is that when i run my hand
across your chest it is yours and no one else’s
when i hold your hand
it is our fingers touching
nerves sparking to our brains
in this casual pairing
that could only be intentional
how i think of you is a different
way an entirely new way
of looking at this new beginning

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Turn the Page

Standard

She watches them run through the pages
the images flowing beneath them,
hands touching the story.

She reaches out, a new
tenderness rushing through her skin.

She watches the ink singing
on the paper on their fingertips,
plots swirling under digits
lines spoken without sound
– she stops.

She plots, weaving into the
chapter this reading
this flowing of paper trails
and cuts to new scenes.

She is a reader, and can flesh out
characters only perfectly flawed
on the page, turn them into
whatever she can imagine
until they adapt to another vision.

She knows the twist turning in the wound
she sees the knot in the thread
the heart of the matter
and lets it beat.

She knows a book can end
as inevitable frames close the scene
lines are drawn and quartered
covers tucked in for an early sundown.

She knows a book can hold
lists and how-to tips and a universe of
suggestions and revisions and pages upon
pages upon pages of the kind
of words that are meant
to help and heal and soothe.

She knows all this but also knows
that none of it really helps
to turn a new leaf
start a chapter anew
and read further than the words
The End.

Except for her to pick up
another book,
or the same book perhaps
turn it round in her hands
and begin, again.