Water Stains and Blue Bottles

Water Stains and Blue Bottles

explanations for your decisions
aren’t always a necessity
people will always ask questions;
let them

I can’t cope with
the idea of

they said I had potential
but they said that to you too
didn’t they

there is silence in truth
but there is also

no one likes to be alone
but we who can adapt to
such a life
learn how to live with it and
still be happy

speak up, stay quiet
it doesn’t matter
people will always expect

understand that we aren’t
all destined to be in
this world for
too long

it’s locker room talk and
private school hallways

we were sun kissed
and foolish
and never once did we wish
to be anything else

I have been by myself
all this time because
when you ask your questions
I want to make sure
I have all the answers

we’re waiting for the other
to be the brave one

fingertips on lips
tender intention
touching and discovering
toying with innocence
and then it’s just lips
and we lose it all

I refuse to share myself
with temporary people
what a waste

how does my name end up
in the mouths of people
I have never met

she was guns and roses
and a little del rey

tears confuse me
for they carry pain and darkness
yet appear visually, quite the contrary

you weren’t popular
you didn’t belong at the parties

treat me to your touch
and push me down the river
let me float downstream
into the arms of another
my heart is warm
but my soul is leaving me
black clouds await
no light to lead me

you drive to the supermarket
in a merc you never paid for
and buy quinoa and lactose-free everything

if I were to close my eyes
I think my layers would become reeds
so I think I will keep them open
only slightly, and just
for now

I enter the shallows
and my body cools with every
progressive step
I break the water’s placid surface
and feel the ripples twirl against
my moving limbs
it is calm, as am I
the constant breeze
freezing this moment
just for me

the hint of pine rushes to my nose
deeper now than ever before
I press further into the brush
leaving behind everything I was
the ground ahead completely
ready for me
and I for it

come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll listen to Bon Iver
fingertips touching
come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll dangle our limbs
cool breeze, calming
come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll get lost in the clouds
minds slipping away
at ease

open windows and summer winds
with smells of citrus
and hints of bare skin
as we dance between
claps of thunder and flashes of white
our souls alive

to the lady down the road
with a smile on her face
and a skip in her step
to the man in the home
with a tube in his arm and
flowers by his bed
to the children by the river
with no care in the world
running wild
to you I am but a stranger
but to me you are life
in both it’s truest and most
vulnerable form

long roads and gunshots
you see one, hear the other
a car breaks, a body drops
a heart races and another stops

acknowledge a label
but never let it
define you

the unlikely innocents
whom you considered to be frigid
still latch onto others
and it surprises you
catches you off guard
makes you attentive to the change
because you could never
release your soul to someone
who opens theirs
and all other parts of their being
so easily to all

different eyes
see different things

completely lost
yet completely in control
isn’t it

the hardest part about growing up
is that you are never quite

I no longer water dead plants

the wind whispers against our skin
beads of sweat glistening in the light
limbs intertwined
sounds of youth
a moment in the reeds

it’s 12:24 and the summer haze welters in the middle of the field
boys dressed in white chasing bat and ball
a coal train passing by on the hour

pine needles and the crackle of twigs
deep within a place I should not be
I can see rows upon rows of trees
pointing straight towards the sky
enough light seeping through to show me
the track ahead
I am not alone, there are others here
hiding away for now
but it won’t be long before they show themselves
for now though, I shall rest
down by the riverbed

the rain patters against the tin roof
slices of watermelon and ice blocks
a summer storm they whispered
footprints against the pavement
young boys on the shoulder of their fathers
slow rumbles and flashes of white
a miracle they whispered

I am a very selective person
an observer
I am eyes and ears
people tend to talk a lot
little things slip
you would cringe
if you could hear yourself
if only you knew

some people just don’t understand
it still gets cold in california

I caught the eye of a lady
much older than me
she smiled at me
before she boarded her train
she was wearing a skirt down to her ankles
no shoes
who are you I thought
where have you been
where are you going
I saw her take a seat by the window
she glanced back towards me
but this time there was a vacant stare
no smile
just a lady on a train

lost in the desert
hot sand between toes
shadows keeping us company
in this silent place

if we refuse to concede to compromise
do we really stand a chance at all
to live a life we want
to live a life we enjoy

Willow 2

© brandonalexanderthomas