I think about the days,
sunsets and laughter,
I remember crawling home
for miles
and telling you
my life just shifted gears,
and I flew home.
I couldn’t wait to tell you how happy I felt
then came the tears,
the constant fear,
the letting go
the fear of falling
further farther faster
than the human mind
could normalize.
Late night tension
drives the soul
to feel the fear
of psychic energy.
What matters only
is love,
but yet lost
is passion.
Where does the heart
feel the least pain
when chain links
surround the body,
imaginary torture
of the mind.
Speaking of
that moment
before a tear,
we laid loose
our opportunity
to quiet our fear.
That golden child
will not wane
when civility seems
profane,
that fear would
respond inside
a spoken
atmosphere.
Hers is a grace
he is unwilling to erase
when in the midst of a day
her dreams would flood his way
though lost in thought
his would be fraught
with indecisions and calculations
seeming insurmountable solutions.
~
When once she laughed
he would own a gaffe
together moments turned hours
until once we discovered ours
and it was too late
life became an uneven slate
while why we might survive
became reason to be alive.
~
Seems a model experience
with such little chance,
yet gone are the hours of eyes
upon each other, without any lies.
We rode the crest of a wave
a certain wind, an octave
spoke to our fears
lending eventual tears.
~
Seems resolute to want to move forward,
without being looked upon as something toward.
© Scott F Savage 11/2021
His tears are his own,
improbably,
there really isn’t a pattern
except the most obvious
except he is so obvious,
you know the sort of person he is,
predictable,
the sort of guy who defines himself
long before anyone else cares anymore.
He lives alone
in this quiet world of anxiety
always on,
always trying to be on
always his chance to breathe is limited,
actions of his own,
can’t seem to disown
all the fears that raised his demeanor,
the skin on his body always edgy.
He’s trying to survive in his own skin,
yet every chance he gets,
his tears seem to steer
his path.
© Scott F Savage 9/2021
If we might
without the normal rules that apply
oh that judgement
that scrutiny
a bald-faced lie
or even maybe
misperception.
When would you might look me in the eye
could you really see
or is there a measure
beyond our normal ability to share compassion
when one is feeling
a strong breeze shifting planes of emotion,
traveling away from where we are
want to be,
felt we could or had been or knew
when once there was an electrifying
pandemonium
of love and passion and unbridled
sensuality
suddenly today these tears,
those images we all try to hide away
this flood of drowning sorrows
becomes some measurable albatross
forever standing in the way.
© Scott F Savage 5/2021
I want to hear it, just one time, I know who I am.
It is clear in my mind I will run toward the sound
I just wish somehow you might know
there is sometimes no other place I may go.
If she yelled, a scream of frustration, well then
at least I would, I would at least hear my name
and for just that moment know I do exist.
People around me are starting to die,
and I haven’t any way of understanding completely why
beyond the natural course of our lives.
~
I remember one time when that afternoon in the rain,
I always refer to the tarp come crashing off the rafters
startling us both, laughing, calling it some sort of omen,
we walked away holding hands and smiling
feeling the positivity of that moment.
~
Oh to have that rain again,
to hear my name from her lips,
to say I am the person she thought I was that day
not this shell of a man without confidence in
any way.
~
I would like if you might scream my name, once.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
I stood in a doorway letting her pass,
for there was no tomorrow
left inside our fantasy.
She would tell me later
everything was purposeful,
the hurt and distance methodical.
I wasn’t ready to believe such is fear
to know this truth is near
though caught up
in a random loss
without any explanation
we might speak about total confusion.
I didn’t know the skies wouldn’t wait
for another chance to love
stillness quiet silence
no cooing of a dove
life without eyes to hold me
I stood in a doorway letting her pass
© Scott F Savage 11/2020
Walk outside into a slowly creeping dusk,
slides across lawns and building sides
sunlight saving last moments
lighting up the past to say good night.
~
Would that if I might say good bye,
to have the strength could understand just why,
what it is, the compelling nature in mind
reaches into my soul to wish upon this lie.
~
I remember the first time I felt pain in my life
when he was just months away from me
we could play for hours as children may,
until that cold December nigh he said good-bye.
~
I’m curious if today, standing side by side or would
he tell me what my thinking meant to want to die.
© Scott F Savage 10/2020
Oh people speak
they don’t know the truth
inside a hidden
state of mind.
~
We might all
look at the moon
walk away
feeling less in tune.
~
Yes we don’t speak
for to reveal ourselves
might risk this our humanity.
~
Lost inside fear
is a one time ability
to express
natural compassion.
~
Instead
we do shelter lives
when personal tragedy
defines loss.
~
Oh we don’t speak
though inside
we imagine the
creaking bend
an old stairwell,
the one that haunted
what once …
~
a beginning.
©️Scott F Savage 10/2020
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
"I feel the rush of your love through my entirety and I know in this very moment of my existence this is where I belong" - The Creative Chic
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