Read Letters to Dandelion Online
Authors: Xve
but then I met
her and things
went out of focus.
Because she was
atrocious. Her life
scalpelled apart,
and not so surgically
so we can see the
splinters from each
dull axe strike.
Her eyes were so
tired, and her beauty
so contorted, like a
living Picasso,
weeping dry tears.
I offered my hand,
from the recreation
that my life might
have seemed, though
no one knows the
cobblestones I have
shattered my shins
and worn out my
Achilles Heels
upon.
My life, nor hers were
any fun, only when we
came together in a mix
of the dirty game we
played, could we laugh
and love and feel each
others naked skin
in the warmth of dreaming
that the other were a cloudy
pillow to fall asleep upon.
Sex? Oh Yes you fool.
Grow up and be an
adult, funny though
that seems to be the
target, but life somehow
walks us backwards, from
being inquisitive kids
who can sense turmoil
and trouble, and pour
their uneducated hearts
into trying to help,
rather than adults
who attack everything
with money and though
and logic and false
pretenses in defenses
of those who may be
defenseless, but smile
a sly crookedly snide
grin towards the efforts
of your undertaking.
I opened my palm,
with whatever I could
offer. My poems, my
time, my money, my
love, my understanding,
my patience (or little of.)
My suggestions, and my
often hidden tears, because
just as thoughts are things
and produce results, maybe
tears are the pocket change
to contain a notion for God
to finally get off his ass and
do something.
Maybe not.
As, in my poem – IF,
being its’ own dimension,
of places where sights are
unseen, thoughts are unprocessed
and words are gone unmentioned,
I forgot a fourth integer.
If, being also a place, where
the smallest door, can drape
and empty canvas, to which
may unfold a whole new picture
of life, onto which we both may paint.
Thus, as I opened my palm to
her, with what little I am and
what minute I have to offer, my
heart burst full of fuel enough
to take Her, I and her Children,
to a brand new world.
One of rest, success, Happiness,
laughter, love, security and
togetherness.
Why would I lie? When I have
already put it, right here, right
now, in writing for all of the
museum of life to witness.
Could the courts not use this decree?
To pursue the plan stated?
No need. I never planned to default
the deed of my love for her.
I extended my reach, before
her weary, yet Angelic face.
I offered my hand, with the
knurls of my fingertips
eagerly anticipating the
warmth of her own touch
to encircle my own.
My eyes grew wet with tears.
A smile turned up for a small
second –
then my heart sank like a stone,
as from my hand, her grip –
slipped.
The Reach – ll
I want to stretch out my
arm,
and reach for your hand
–
So when our palms meet
and our fingers land,
into a knitted hovel
of love.
Knowing that your touch
is an extension of your
beauty,
Believe me –
my reach, would be for
you
only.
For I could never
imagine
being without you.
But, my reach, falls
short.
Because I’m always the
one
reaching out, and you’re
the one running about.
I hate to say –
I want.
Because no one seems to
care about that.
I hint that I would
like,
which is more subtle
than direct.
It just feels so
perfect,
but so many things I
never know.
I lost you for 6 months.
A monsoon of tears I’d
often
daily cried.
I was reaching out for
you then,
but the reality of the
situation
soon set in, and to me
did not lie.
I am just a man. A flesh
and blood
human being –
I am full of love for
you, this is
something I hope that
you are
seeing.
Please baby –
I’m reaching,
I’m hoping,
I’m trying,
I’m dying – to be the
one
who loves you daily.
Please, all I ask, is
that you
just don’t play me.
I’m not rich, or made of
money,
But if you became mine,
then
nothing could stop me –
from claiming glory, of
any
new story
We could both write to
summarize
the tale of our love in
our lives.
I would love to reach to
you, to
place a ring on your
finger –
I would love to reach to
you, to hand
to you, or take from
you, our daughter.
I would love to reach to
you, in the coldest
part of the darkest
night –
I would love to reach to
you, to keep you
warm and safe, and do things for you right.
My hand is open,
my heart is open,
and though it is
easily broken,
I love you so much –
That it is worth the
pain
from the reach.
Why can’t we both agree,
That is we could simply
get past the small
issues,
we might just be perfect
for each other?
Grave and subtle differences between Man and Woman
Let me take you to a better
place, he said, with a heart
full of grace, as open and
brilliant as the new day
sun.
Let me be the one, who extends
of himself, to bless you so you
can rest and grow and learn to
love.
No, she said. I don’t need you,
nor want you, I am who I am,
and won’t bow to you.
Bow to me? He replied, there
is no need. I want to put aside,
all childishness and foolishness.
I have long been in the pit, of
lies and games and deception,
my new mission, is to love
someone, you, if you will allow.
No, she said, I am in love with
substance, and with circumstance,
and I won’t take a chance, not
with you, because we played
the game of flesh and it’s not
worth it.
And he said, take my hand,
we are still who we are. We
are still two who can become
one. We are still two who
can think as one, we are still
two, who can overcome, we
are still two, who can live,
love, learn and grow together.
Life is not always as such, I
know, I have grown. Please
trust in something, other than
yourself?
I can’t she replied. My eyes
can not see that far. I am trying
real hard, on the small that I
am able to create for me, though
you laugh at my progress, for
me, you would never guess,
just how hard, even that was
to come by.
My life is in shambles, my home
is lost, I only have my pets, and
those who I can manipulate to
support me.
I can not manipulate you. You
want the real me, and a real me
does not exist.
I can see the real you he exclaimed,
I can touch the real you. You are
not dead. You are just in limbo.
Let he guide you through? Let
me hold your hand and at the
end, love you like you should.
She silenced for a moment, and
thought and pondered and bit
her lip, then said -
No, Because, I am just me, and
it is my nature, to stay as such.
She won’t pick me.
I’m out of her league.
Or, should it be –
the other way around?
Then I wouldn’t frown.
So much.
I would wait.
Just to see her face,
smile at me,
glow towards me.
But, the clock ticks on
and she uses who is close.
I want to be used.
I only want to touch her –
I’ve loved her.
But, it was one-sided.
I dream too much.
Short, vignettes of desire.
Strokes too the much the
raging fire in my mind.
-
in hopes
-
in fact,
that I want her.
But, I’m just the bent ten in
a new deck of Aces and Clubs.
Her beauty is so subtle.
And yeah, she’s a bunch
of trouble –
But, trouble couldn’t be
any cuter.
I’m a fool man.
She’ll never pick me.
In a sea of authenticity,
I’m not the Pantages Lamp, or
the hundred year old pair of
underwear.
I’m nothing special.
So, who am I to dare,
to cast my hat in the ring?
I’ll show you how –
With everything I’ve got.
This life,
This moment,
These situations
are my only shot.
So why not?
My heart sprouts roses
when I see her.
My skin turns to ginger bread
when I touch her.
My eyes narrow so,
from a smile that I can
barely see her.
She is who I want.
I can only hope,
that, she’ll pick me.
Most mysterious mystery
What is the beauty of a woman truly for?
Was it given to her to use, to become a whore?
Was it given for gain; to trade for profit galore?
Was it given for her to use to explore,
the seductive evilness of an exploitive world,
distressed,