Transcendentalism

Wed, 04/17/2013 - 18:59 -- rileyod

Location

95476
United States
38° 13' 53.6664" N, 122° 28' 9.7284" W

The books never once opened on the shelf
crack their pages to reveal
thick-jawed beasts or
the few remaining craters of ghost-towns or
a sea of people shielding me from you and you from me

The midnight meadow envelops our shared soul
the wind of time blows over our young hearts
The sinister ticking clock reminds you
and reminds me
our choices must be made
we no longer have years but
days, minutes, moments

We drown in secrets, we choke on decisions
Fear winds around my throat
Ignorance becomes bliss

Where is our escape?

She blows out the candles and he yawns
By evening their love is even greater, it grows by the minute
I hear the teakettle scream as
you get in bed, making the pillows mumble
Their breath carries words of intimacy in hopes of
avoiding the beasts, the craters,
the sea of people inevitably shielding me from you

I want to remember the pitch of your voice
the glide of your step
the scent of your skin

You purse your lips
just the slightest bit
and whisper:
"more"

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