I look in the mirror and I see
eyes of fire staring back at me.
I feel warmth burn from within.
There’s a fire creating heat
that forces me to my feet.
The ice in my veins melts away
the second I head on my way.
In the mirror, I see flames
become untamed. When I turn
around, nothing is the same.
My eyes of fire ignite my sight.
These eyes of fire feel right.
It can be a cold world.
I don’t have to tell you
that. We know this.
Events, people, places
can stop us in our tracks.
It can get chilly. Life can
freeze almost all things:
just not time. Not this
time. We must carry
the warmth needed
to keep us heated.
We must survive this
snowstorm that keeps
most frozen. Pedals
from your frozen roses
remind me to find truth –
to remain warm: alive.
Your frozen roses remind
me to search and find
love I have left behind.
Falling can hurt if you are not careful
The hard ground welcomes those who have big hearts.
Red empty skies filled with those who are careful
Pieces of souls carried away in carts.
We create a fire that burns forever
Inside of us, that only we can feel.
Once too hot, we might not cool down, ever
But it’s the warmth we seek, love we reveal
Be careful as someone can put fires out
For some the cold needs to for sure occur
There are people like that out and about
I now know that because I have met her
&
Love is a game where some people will lose
But the world looks better in pairs of twos
Your spiky Spock ears could intercept
alien transmissions and signal in lost kitchens
miles away. Your eye sockets could home
large meatballs and hold milk like a cereal bowl.
Your watery lips closed like an elevator
to protect drool and spit from escaping.
I can see my bushy eyebrows and squinted
eyes in the reflection of your red lipstick.
Your nose vacuumed up a gravy scented cloud
and pointed me in the right direction.
Your nose long like a jousting weapon
capable of prevailing over any kitchen contender.
I fell back to observe your juicy buns.
A trail of shedding hair floated down
like snowflakes leaving a path of stranded
spaghetti noodles that could lead us back
to the living room. The digital photo frame
on the kitchen counter revealed a seventh grade
version of you, but regretted it when you sent a flying
hand in the photo frame’s direction.
Your hands are the ones seen holding beautiful
tacos and hamburgers on fast food commercials.
Your hands are powerful enough to unlock any
Fridge’s mysteries. Your brain is elusive enough
to choose between mustard or ketchup, chicken or pork,
cold pizza or salad. The fridge door swung open,
slamming the counter and shaking up condiments
hiding from us. The freezer door followed. The icy finish
of Rocky Road ice cream shined like 24 fresh carrots.
I extended my arm and retrieve the prize.
I ran my finger along the cardboard, carving
up the frost. I pulled my glistening finger tip away
and reveal a smiley face. She pressed closer
to me raising up her finger. She etched in a heart
to the right of my smiley face.
It’s not too bad falling in love twice.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 