as i cupped their faces.

February 29, 2012

Starcrossed, or otherwise.
You’re a good man, I tell them. Because they are. Because my heart knows good people, and because they were the center of my world for a breeze in time. No matter how briefly.
You make me laugh like no one else, I’ve said.
I love your crooked smirk, I’ve said.
Your poetry.
Your hands.
Your motivation, your drive.
Your muscular groove above your groin.
I love the way you see the world.
And the little loops when you cross your t’s.
Your old fashioned style.
Your dark sense of humor.
Your voice as it gravels when you chuckle.
Your goatee.
And the way you stare out into the horizon like you’re waiting.
I love your forcefulness, I’ve said.
Your nicknames for my body parts.
Your Friday night habits and book collection.
Your long-winded ramblings on the telephone.
And the way you speak to your mother.
I meant it.
I love how you think outside the box, I’ve said.
I meant it.
I can see beauty in ordinary things; I feel beauty in ugly things. It’s not difficult to find uniqueness or to see how special something is – if you can allow yourself to love it. Unintentionally, I make this my purpose. Purposefully, or  accidentally, I loved them. I told them how I loved them and why, and from where and in which ways they are special. Special not just to me but to their race in entirety. Not just in my lifetime, but in all lifetimes they’ve ever touched, and to whomever who never took the time to tell them so.
You’re a good man, I tell them as I cup their faces in my hands, or wished I could.
Because sometimes that’s all a man needs to hear.
Because, even if I can’t keep it, I like to leave things better than I found them.

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10 Responses to “as i cupped their faces.”

  1. Neeks said

    The imagery here is fantastic! We all have someone we are that familiar with. Really enjoyed this, thank you for sharing the poem.

  2. Why do we fail to keep them? Not, I mean, when they let go…but when we do, or we sabotage our own selves so severely as to push them out of our lives?

    Why do we love them so clearly, so dearly, and let them prance away like they were nothing more than beautiful apparitions that are now no more real to us than their namesake?

    Truly, we are a stupid species. We don’t recognize how rare they are, until they are no longer within our circle. And forget all the nonsense about “being better for having held them”…we would have been better if we had walked beside them until our days came to a close.

    We all know this, each time we read something such as you’ve written here. Why do we leave them, or push them away?

  3. Does the last line hint at manipulation or alterations made, a perfectionist? As he slips away is the last line a self-assurance? That at least one has had a positive effect of some kind, what it certainly reveals is the motivation lying beneath that one genuinely meant.

  4. Ben Naga said

    I nice piece of writing.

say something to me.

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