And as the ashes meet the air
I’m clouded with perspective
For she was neither here or there
And my pleading – ineffective
As she’s carried by the wind
In myriad direction
I realize that while we urn
We cannot give protection
-Galwyn
In my final hours
I hope that they might think me strong
Through all the tears that I’ve held back
I whisper that I’m scared
They understand
And I am gone
-Galwyn
The rain won’t seem to stop falling here
And though I complain
I suppose it isn’t what’s stopping me
From seeing you
Perhaps it’s through these bedewed eyes
Or these grieving windows,
That I take this time to reflect –
Though the pane is rattling
Drenched and distorted
Suppose this rain could wash clean
Rather than chill our skin
And not flood the asphalt with dingy sweat
Wouldn’t that be so poetic?
Yet words aside
Things are as they are
This water has had many lives
Broken smaller then one could imagine
Lifted higher than ever before
And dropped
Sometimes I worry we’re doomed,
To a similar cycle
You’re my oxygen ripped free
Leaving me bitter and hazy
As if I might combust
But nothing feels worse
Than guilting you, over me
A wound only heals as it dries
And this goes for you
Yet every time the evening patters
It reminds me of what matters
I fear for the thunder of knowing it’s you
-Galwyn
“I miss you”
The words trapped
Beyond fiberous flap
Tethered with awakened glue
Kissed with teardrops shed for you
And as the paper plane sits
I’m unsure if I should open or send it
As I forgot whom it had been addressed to
Me,
You,
Or perhaps us two?
-Galwyn
Tell me all the sordid things we’d do,
If we were young
And point me to the million stars,
That we’d end up among
These little lies of no surprise
Lay gently on my face
Like effervescent kisses
That I would never erase
Tell me of the way we’d be,
If we had never met
These white lies fill the spaces in,
Of sorrows I forget
-Galwyn
Passionate and pliant
Spontaniously reliant
Rebelliously compliant
And cooperatively defiant
This friend I hold so dearly
And whom I loved so nearly
Yet we failed oh so clearly
While we both tried so sincerely
-Galwyn
I’m sappy as a Vermont tree
Those amber waves of drain
Like honey that is thick and sweet
Not bubbling like champagne
Wouldn’t turn away vermouth
If I might reach my peak
But sometimes I should rest my bark
My throat is feeling weak
Yet whisk me off to share a drink
Of auburn sarsaparilla
And learn that cheerful poetry
Is not always vanilla
Lemonade
Gold hand grenade
Sour bludgeons sweet
So sometimes with acidic thoughts
The sap makes it complete
-Galwyn
