Tuesday, August 30, 2016

The Moon by Deven A. Kennedy

The moon came into being, only the slightest of slivers. The moon looked down on the world with new eyes. The moon was damaged. From the first light shining on it. It had damage. As the days passed it slowly grew. It began to fill in and expand and become larger. As it did, more bruises could be seen on its dusty surface. Days passed. The moon was then half of what it could be, with more to look forward to and more to improve. The moon could only grow. Even as more damage was shown it continued moving forward. Days passed. The moon continued to grow. Becoming more and more of what it was destined to be but also unveiling more and more bruises on its skin. Then the moon was full. It was at its peak. It was all that it could ever be and it was all that it had worked for. All the damage it had received was worn proudly on its surface. The moon was full. The moon was complete. But then the moon began to wane. Slowly becoming less and less of itself, the moon lost its completion. Days passed. More days passed as the moon was half of what it used to be. It had lost half of itself, and it had lost half of its damage. The moon continued to lessen and lessen, losing more and more of its entirety. Then, the moon was gone. Only a hole in the starry sky where it used to be. All of its damage was gone. All of it was gone.  The moon came into being once more, only the slightest of slivers.

Deven A. Kennedy
 © August 2016

Friday, August 19, 2016

Until One Of Us Sleeps

I love the way you 
Forgive me for asking
When you already told me no
It doesn't hurt 
It is a brushstroke
In the painting of life
As are your stories
That I so love to read
They hold me captive
I hope they never let go
Remember that time
We talked until sunrise
I wondered if I was
Talking too much
Not listening enough
Because I'd really rather
You speak and I listen
I feel you 
In a telepathic sense
Sometimes it feels like
I know you inside and out
Sometimes it feels like
I have to get to know you
Over and over again
I'd love to
Sit with you
And listen as 
The years accumulate
In your face 
And the strength grows
Inside me
Even if your words
Were about other people
I know I'd feel peaceful
My angst is on a world tour
We hardly speak anymore
When we do talk
We talk about audacity 
And impossible dreams
And agree that those are treasures
In their own right
Someday, I hope
A thousand of my words
Strum your pain
Sing your life
Let you know you're felt
I feel the fire inside you
I feel a longing
But I don't want to suffer
In teenage Shakespearean desperation
I want to taste the honey
In as many small moments
As can be squeezed into a lifetime
Even if they are moments 
Where I just listen
Someday will be ours

Monday, August 1, 2016

Era of the Soul

I spend the day with her song
The sunset with her painting
I move her words around
Within her sentences
Trying to see clearly
Who she is and
Who I imagine her to be
She is mine
I am hers
What is the question
Who is the answer
I want to touch her ear
And feel her hear me
I want to touch her eyes
when she smiles
I want to touch her lips
I want to touch her hips
As she looks in my eyes
And leans into me
I wait for the days
She needs me to catch her
Make her feel safe
Until again she goes
And I spend the day with her song
The sunset with her painting
I move her words around
Within her sentences
Trying to see clearly
Who I am to her
Sometimes I think of leaving
What if she doesn't
Ask me not to go
And all I know is
Nobody will ever love her harder
Nobody will ever be
So satisfied with her touch
Nobody will ever know love
More than I did for her
If they do and her happiness
Is obvious even to the inattentive
Then I'll let go again
Be a best friend
Who hopes she would 
Never let me be that selfless
Feed my audacity
Put her fingers between my fingers
Let me feel her hair on my face
Let these moments pass in silence
Choose not to go
Without me asking her to stay
Say she's mine
Say I'm hers