If you were to say to me,
Tomorrow will not come.
I don’t think I would be able to finish,
All that I want done.
My list just keeps on growing,
So much to do and see,
I want to try so many things
So much that I could be.
So ’til my ending moments,
‘Til the final breath.
I will enjoy what you have given,
I will live it to my death.
~ Aimee Wahl 2016 ~
This hostility you feel,
This hatred you impose,
Doesn’t solve the problem,
It only makes it grow.
So while you want your vengeance,
And while it may be sweet,
The aftertaste is bitter,
And will end in self-defeat.
You betray me, you palpitating scourge,
Daring me to let out what most desperately needs to stay in.
You shock me with your vengeance,
Oozing that thick red sustenance you call life.
Letting me drip, drip, drip,
Through my fingertips.
Onto the hard, glossy tiles.
They don’t want your gift of doom,
Your coagulating bitterness.
I can feel your delight in skipping a beat,
That desire you have to slow,
Forcing me to an untoward finish,
A finish I don’t want.
I won’t give in,
~ My Simple Love Haiku ~
Your deep, liquid eyes,
Consume me in their sweet depth,
Conveying your soul.
In stark silence I lay,
Prostrate on a cement road,
I wait on a future that doesn’t show itself.
Lingering in my own abstract reality.
Expecting a universe to bow before me.
As if in all it’s intricate wonder,
It owes me the favor of acknowledgement.
This narcissism boils over,
Dusting me in a coat of profuse pride.
That leaves me wanting so much more.
As if I am worthy,
As if I have earned it.
Indeed, a fantasy of being so primitively important,
Is only a delusion that I carry,
In the recesses of my soul.
It will return to the darkness shortly,
And I will stand back up.
Trodding ever forward,
Duty bound, future focused, unnoticed.
My fingertips trailing down the divine softness of your arm,
Reminds me of a day when the sun shone above my head,
Radiating life throughout the depth of my very bones.
When the clouds were scattered in a spread of fluff,
Lightly floating, a dreamlike cottontail weightlessness.
Laying on a hillside over a blanket amid the deep, green grass,
Filled with the rushing presence of life, moving here and there.
The feel of the plush heat against my skin,
That warmth and gentle caress of the wrap,
Cocooning me in a safe haven of eternity.
I knew that moment would be my treasure,
And this is my constant reminder every time I touch,
The sweet heat of your skin.
Don’t forget me when I am gone,
Let me be that still small voice in your head.
The one that leads you to the light,
The one who never lets you fail.
I can be your sweet, shining star,
In the blackest sky.
I can be a thin ray of hope,
When everything’s gone awry.
Let me take the burdens that you hold onto so tightly.
If you don’t,
If you won’t,
There will be nothing left for me.
There will be nothing left of me.
And I cannot be a blip on a radar of an existence,
Wrought in consequential silence.