Orion's view

Edited final version

I am trying to be patient as hell.
but Time keeps her clock at a distance.
I cannot read the hands on her skin,
but can feel the burning of her breath etching doubt onto my eyelashes,
blinking ashes of you onto the cold worn floor.
If I watch closely with eyes closed
I can see how the fire began,
and remember it all.

You make me want to play with flames,
burn our story into the atmosphere
so that even the stars can be a witness to how this happened.
I want them to see this twisted pattern,
so that I can be told by Orion,
- that I’m not crazy for loving you.
But this
is not your poem.
Do not dare think I’d give you something so fragile.
I will not count you among the constellations in my heart just yet…
but you’ve made it far enough into my sky
that you’ve created for yourself a patient audience
with my own stars.
They are listening to your image,
and watching your echo drift further away
We sit on cold concrete steps
in the middle of everyone else’s life
and I start wondering
if we’re not there because the ground we stood on
seemed too soft for this type conversation.
I know I’m loosing you when you start to avoid my smile,
…because it makes you smile.
Subways rumble their morbid song under our steps
but give no more security than the ground
we’ve refused to even try to stand on.
If I knew how this was going
I may have been able to blindfold Time
before she could steal something away so precious.
My stars are listening to your heartbeat
but none of them are willing
to chase after your hallow trail of uncertainty
so bright, they shine hard against such a pointless journey.
I will not follow you, you are not yet my Polaris, or my Sun.
Your path seems backwards to me
and I will not get lost after you
I only face east and move to the beat of my own dreams
and without you..., it would be no different.
I would still inscribe my life deep into history,
with happiness as my knife.

I just believe it could come out beautifully fascinating
If there were a collage of you and I
scratched lightly as stone relief
I against the path worn away by others.
You give me outlines of footprints to count on and wait for,
and even they are in the wrong direction.
You are lost in your own story,
and writing with an eraser held too close to the plot.
We are not a legend, or myth,
we will not remain simply because we existed
and so -
I write poems to watch how they burn
I’ve seen how paper can catch fire
but learn to fly in it’s last breath if you give it the chance.
…if you give it the chance….
and so for this reason
I find beauty in the fire Time has not captured.
She hasn't found us yet,
and if you would stop looking for her
we could watch something soar,
and smile because we set that flame.
and maybe
it isn’t a good idea for us to play with these matches anymore
when you don’t even know if you want to burn down your own shadow
because it too can follow you into forever.
But in the sun,
I’ve found our outlines match
along sidewalks of what we didn’t plan to happen.
And there is little left other than a comfortable silence
between your smile and mine
and never before have we needed anything different.
Happiness reflects art into the palms of our hands
making the Earth blush from her success this time around.
So I'll blink ashes of you to the ground
and trace the after image of your terrified shadow
pretending I could paint the future in invisible ink for you.
Remove your imaginary timeline so that you could realize
we write it for ourselves.
And nothing is so indelible that it cannot be worn away by Time herself
or the choices we make.

She keeps me company while I wait for nothing.
Her clock hands lay uncharted moments in my mind
And I start to wonderwith each 'tick' that resonates with the echo of what
I already know…
...if I should not ask Orion to tell me the real truth.
I believe he’s waited as long as I have to say that;

any love is always crazy

And Time herself knows nothing more than how to etch doubt
Into the eyelashes of wandering lost hearts.