Though hers were questions alone,
she would never let him near
for fear
he would she knew want him to return,
to be near,
to listen,
to hear,
though she knew he might remind her
only that hers, memory, heart, eyes, passion
truth
would matter.
© Scott F Savage 1/2021
For once could the night hold promise
sweet would be her magical caress,
the feeling of my fingertips running her brow,
soft the eyes would let my own follow.
We would in this form charm a cold heart
for now I walk inside galleried art
where names in a corner represent someone
whom I wish would may be the one.
The her, the me, the sudden turn then empty
when will I, how, could you, we were … empty
The hardest part is never really knowing why
even the knowing too much we will cry
when faced with letting go, this good bye, a no
when will the skies just let a time before me know
though there in truth swoon the dove
whose song would symbolize sweet love.
© Scott F Savage 1/2021
We did, were, no longer do
feel the damp morning dew
that soft would tickle our eyes
miles away a shadow secure.
We could within time see a future
where fear might intercede
rather precarious
when caught, no bound
within this a precious
phenomena our love.
We chose to break each other
our heart and soul
sweet separation.
©️ Scott F Savage 1/2021
Long before anyone showed up to wonder,
the sole proprietor of worry, a concern
an internal battle whereby no one need care
except the him, her, the people that do
no longer care about society and its worthy
component of judgment, shame and guilt.
~
Oh to lose ourselves in the news of the world,
to let go of personal aggravations and blame
it all upon a world away from our own,
yet right here in my backyard I watched a fight
break out between two states of mind,
one struggling to survive,
and the other wishing only to conquer
the reality of a life lived in peace.
~
I watched the day drift by today, like sheets of rain,
weeping through the avenue painting the street.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
To the untrained eyes,
the look is wonderful, filled with smiles
or perhaps there is that serious pose,
instilled by the photographer
gives a certain panache to the identity.
~
Hers always a puzzle for me
yet drew my eyes in a smile,
in the heartbreak of loneliness that an expression
might cry out – when one time I could reach
and then later destroy.
~
Always been a sensitive soul
so I was told,
and grew to know
though not really something I might favor
and forever forgive its appeal.
~
I’ve hurt you I know
without restraint, no process
only a reactive woe that mattered only to me,
to shed light, later too late
for the cycle of our lives
to retrace and find some moral compass
we might hold on to
we might find solace
we might surely understand the truth.
~
Left now only with pictures we can re-imagine
or shelve as a memory framed upon a matting of denial.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
There is now and the when
we reach out and feel a cold wind,
and yet a warmth exists,
having known once before I did.
~
She took my heart and wrapped it in a naked palm
setting it down where I will never know,
though I will look in familiar ponds
see it floating before my eyes, a certain grace.
~
Oh she did teach me a beauty in passion,
where I was lost she would help me find
some natural course of life less defined
and in that brief moment of silence
~
I walked today to a familiar setting in wood
searching over and over again as one would.
© Scott F Savage 12/24/2020
So many times I would travel this road
it would be daylight
sunrise, returning in a setting sun.
I wonder sometimes how long it was
I would remain alone
inside a fantasy of love
We talked so often of love
somehow confused our lives with sex,
sex and love,
love and sex.
I suppose I’ll never know
which one you might have handed to me,
which
you believe belonged to you.
All I can do is visualize those moments
when together we might share eyes,
do you remember
that was all we needed.
I’m here right now
needing you
in a manner you once told me
I was needed,
I have tears of confusion
all I will ever have.
There will forever be this love
rare possibility of ever going away
eternal heart and soul
will always dream eyes.
©️ Scott F Savage 12/2020
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 remember when she would tell me
I could hear the hoot owl,
Often I might suggest I did as well,
though I could never recall exactly so.
Tonight I heard a hoot owl screech
and then a hoot, a series of hoot, hoot
there I was standing in nature,
hearing once nearby,
again in a distance,
listening I could sense an echo
only leaving my tears.
There was one time ago
when her words would sear my heart,
she would tell me about all
the natural sounds she knew so well.
Teaching me how to appreciate nature
my soul would soften with sweet imagery,
the hoot of an owl, certain calls of a warbler,
the annual growth of moss on a tree
during one of many walks
in the day, in the night, an afternoon
anywhere could become our favorite way.
I heard the hoot of an owl tonight,
I thought of you, I shed a familiar tear.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
In my every word,
when walking down my steps, opening the door,
a glance outside,
I see a scant breath of snow
covering the road,
it’ll all be gone by noon,
but in that moment
I think of you,
and I try to imagine what your similar moment might be.
~
I resign myself to dreams,
the surreal walk in a familiar park,
holding your hand
watching your eyes glaze, ahead
showing me a favorite wooden walkway
into a lush valley
rising above again,
the wood pieces aged,
adds to the nostalgic beauty in the moment,
a time I’m standing near, no with you.
~
I no longer know where I am
good days and bad,
today is one of those horrific ideals,
where there seems little to be happy about.
I don’t wish to bother anyone
with trivial notions that everyone has been asked to
endure, survive, accept, adjust, change, isolate.
~
I sometimes wish I didn’t have to completely forget who I am
in your eyes alone I used to be someone whom I can no longer be.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
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A Collaborative Mental Health Blog
A little bit of me, with a little bit of you. A little of the old mixed with the new. A little too loud, a little too shy. A little grounded and a little high. A little bit of sad and a little bit of laugh. A little bit of evrything i carry in my heart. This is my blog that highlights other works, for my poems and musings please follow me on http://myshellecongeries.wordpress.com/
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