hurricane

ransacked visions
fragments of hope
pieces of a dream
this equation we wrote

symbolizes vague images of the things we reach to be
a clandestine approach, void of pain or vanity.

Because they really matter--the dreams we hold true,
the escobars and minotaurs the lurk, hidden from view.

Why should it matter,  all the whens and the whys?
Because a glimpse of redemption could lighten these blood-black eyes.

Just a glimmer would force the courageous shoulder to meet the grindstone again.
A brief freedom from the litany, a dance of rhythm across the window pain.

Gleefully smitten and washed about
Temporarily released from bludgeoning doubt.

Handsome hands and gallant arms,
soft warm lips that speak no harm.

My sweet dream, and the wings to bear it.
The life I crave and the love to share it.

Window Shopper

Fighting for a dress inside a window..
Window shopping, wishing, waiting for the dress to go on sale.

A dress that will seemingly never be mine;
I can only look at it, wish for it, dream about it,
but never touch it.

Never feel it draped perfectly across my body.

Saving my money, sacrificing, foregoing on other things,
because I want that dress--THAT DRESS.

I can imagine wearing it; how good it will look, how perfect the fit.
I've got the perfect pair of shoes to go with it.

Perfect earrings, perfect accessories, pantyhose.
I even know where I want to wear it.
I just can't seem to get it.
No matter what.
When I have enough money, the store isn't open.
When I go by the store and it's open, I don't have enough money.

It's like the movie "Groundhog Day"; just an ongoing bad dream that I can't seem to escape.
I wake up every morning, hoping it's going to be different.  But alas, still the same.

I've wanted this dress for so long, but each time I go to buy it, I can't close the deal. Then I tell myself to stop wanting the dress so bad.

I try my best to disconnect from my desire for it, and I tell myself to disregard it.  

If desire accomplished is sweet to the soul, the converse must be true.
Bitter are the taste buds which languor after a dissatisfied desire.

And a dress that still hangs in the store window.