I’ve been thinking of you lately
I need you
Talking aloud to you sometimes, hoping you don’t mind
I want to tell you
About all my thoughts
Isn’t it a pity
I can’t
What is life
But a chance to reveal
The inner light
To those you love. There’s
Something
About you I completely understand
I’ll keep trying for you, until I can say
Here comes the sun
And feel that it’s true
These almosts are killing me—two ships passing in the night,
Longfellow I think, it sits on a high shelf with my great grandfather’s name pencilled in
and his son built ships on the dock of the bay,
Redding I know, so perhaps he experienced the same.
There is no safe way to meet in the middle.
Are you seeing the debris I keep flinging your way? just spicks and specks of myself,
Bee Gees I note, floating idly by. a like, a love, a message, a gif, a reaction.
I’m scared no one will stop me and I’ll give too much and be stuck out here alone.
What does your face look like when you see me?
Track my coordinates out of the darkness and storm,
Longfellow I repeat, I’m heading to our home.
For Emmrich
Your clever hands weave
these spells to uplift the dead.
I mournfully watch.
A sage professor,
you settle my fear of death
with green eyes glowing.
I wish I knew you,
Nevarran necromancer,
kiss me through the screen.
It’s hitting me tonight, the cold vacuum of space inside my chest. I don’t understand, how something so empty feels so heavy. And then I think, planets—incomprehensibly massive—they are suspended in nothingness. The moon—a rock just floating in non-air. It’s about the force of the pull, I suppose. The emptiness itself is pulling me down.
It keeps my head turned downwards, when I walk the neighbourhood to look at pigeons. They cluster in groups, just tittering around. They like to be near—do you know they’re all descended from pets? We shun them, but they can’t help but love us anyway. A tragic, self-defeating love. They look up to us and we look away. Seems to happen all the time.
Somehow, you stay connected to me
balloon string tight on my pinkie finger
But God
it would be easier without you
No more
highs and lows
I’m just tagging along your currents
I forget
sometimes, when I’m swept up to the heavens
that it just means
the fall
will hurt me harder
Megan Porter Poetry