Li Bear

11/12/12

Three days past.

Pit in my stomach. My heart sunken.

I leave the closet door open. You’re always welcome in. Looking at the third shelf, I’m torn to not see your green glowing eyes reflect back at me.

Morning comes, I wake up and head to the bathroom. I miss your tireless ability to make it to the sink top for a drink of running water straight from the faucet, just as I reach the bathroom door.

I miss the subtle click-clack of your back claws on the solid floor. I miss your frog-croak meow and your purring reassurance that you’re calm and content.

I miss calling you by name to come sleep on the bed.  I miss letting you under the covers each and every night, for one minute, only to find out its too hard to breath with all those blankets on top of you. I miss then waking up with you above my head, half scrunched to the bottom of the bed so you can have the entire of my pillow to yourself.

I miss that you steal my chair EVERY time I leave it with the intent to come back seconds later.

I miss your ability to take the freshly cleaned litter box and always have a way to make it immediately dirty again.

I miss the silky soft fur on the inside of your front paws. I miss the tiny tick-looking mole above your ear.

You adopted me as much as I adopted you. I needed you to get me through. You were there for the time I needed anything, I needed you, most in my life.

Unconditional love. What are pets for?

I can’t believe that now your life entwined with mine is only just a memory. Your life is of the past. 

What’d I’d give to hear your purr again, your face light up at the opening of a can of wet food. Your health and happiness at the tiny world you lived in. Your soft black fur at my fingertips. Your head nudge for another bit of attention.

I just wish I could have you back.

I miss you tremendously Li Bear.

4 years was far too short.

Am I still with you?

Are you still with me?

Database Error.

I’m still with you.
I am still with you.
I am still with you?
Is it really tomorrow?

The Illusions

I am right and you are wrong.

When we fight and I am right, we move on.

When we fight and I am wrong,

again and again you hear my song.

 

I choose not to thank you,

for anything you put forth to me.

Rather, there is always something you forget,

and that was always the more important thing to see.

 

You put your work ahead of me.

You put your work ahead of yourself.

You convince yourself you are constantly stumbling,

But you are living in a vat of wealth.

 

And for this I must understand

What skewed morals do you uphold?

Is not the most important thing love and romance?

Because life is a piece of cake dipped in gold.

 

How did everything turn to black and white?

Flip upright?

life should be.

We can wake up again before the sunrise.
Steadily slip out down the driveway to the wide open spanse of green.
Settle down on the stark wooden bench we’ve known a lifetime.
Pass a thought here or there, else not heard nor seen.

Driven by sun, inching closer towards the horizon.
I often miss that blanket of mist that smothers our aging, weathering field.
Months slip past, again we forget our need to blink.
Only reminded of our faults when the suns beams lead our mist to yield.

If the morning mist held out, not just only for the sunrise.
We’d stare into our futures ’til the end, living nothing along the way.
Inhaling each sharp, cool breath of grassy air.
But this mist we’ve lost ourselves in lacks dimension. Blurry and grey.

Only certain of each breath that infiltrates our lungs.
As I feel my chest expand and even still, a tainted doubt often remains within.
This bench we’ve long forgotten, now cracked, unstable and chipping of it’s last brush of paint.
Leaves a yearning pit in my stomach, I’d settle just for one more morning, again.

I can’t move forward every day,
And setbacks will put me miles away from here and now.
But letting go of the simplicities I’ve always loved,
For the sake of a faster forward, just isn’t how.

Wildberries

I want to remember what it is to be driven by your presence.

Shipped to the extremities. There’s no such thing as reverse.

I’ve shaped a new world around the impediments encountered.

But it’s the distortions and you’ll find, now, I’m harder to traverse.

 

I hike this direction , day in, day out.

Closing my eyes each minute to envision the end. 

My weight wears steadily and unevenly into the soles of your shoes.

So, the holes grow bigger. You’ve no clarity to lend.

 

I’ve carved my name into the bench. 

And watched the wind blow the shavings to the greenbelt floor.

Drifting lightly and simply though the waves of the air,

Dispersing into nothing more.

 

If you could chose the Texas blackberries or Pennsylvania raspberries,

Would the sacrifice to you be as dear to you as mine?

Could you push aside the thorns and accept the thin bleeding scrapes,

To pick that juiciest berry at the top of the vine?

 

What’s more important than the largest bowl or the pick of the litter,

Is putting in the time. And, so if I don’t give you mine.

 

 

 

A Thousand Million Points to Consider

Practical over pleasure.
But that doesn’t mean never.

A delicate balancing of the heart.
Over, over and again you restart.

In consciousness you act as to be seen,
But impervious, on no reputation you lean.

It’s the drive to be safe in the world that you tread.
Never quite knowing the path down which you’ve been lead.

Do you rush past the blossoms and beetles that crawl?
Or observe the fine details of every and all?

For what you see is a Faberge reflection.
But simply remorse reveals no point of inflection.

It slips further unchanged, forgotten it’s injustice.
And all the other can do is trust us.

To everyone ever, I’d like to communicate too.
It’s hard without you. Harder with you.