Amiss

I’ve been sticking with the sappy
Writing mostly when my mind is amiss
You may find value, you may not
I’m sometimes amber
Though often, ambergris

-Galwyn

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Flare

The orange flare gleams through the tree
It’s skeleton of branches
Silhouetted in a sea of green leaves
With veins fractured through them
Like the wings of a fly

The warm globe glides
Along the slick metal bench’s rim
Igniting my eyes
Yet not burning them
As it is obstructed by no other forms

This lonely tree
This empty bench
And this lambent expecting glare
Placed between you and me
Have you never wondered why?
-Galwyn

EyE

Our eyes are always locked
Hers and mine
For they are magnets
One north and one south
Yet her northern lights
Gaze from the back of my southern nights
Into my mind they look
To where it’s dark
Without her spotlights
Deer in the headlights
Our eyes are a set of four
East side green, west side grey
They draw us closer as we gaze
Magnetism not limited
To when we are awake
-Galwyn

Latitude

I hear your laughter in the onyx sea
Between the cobalt ocean
And the frosted moon
It would echo if it met resistance
But it flies over foothill and rise
Never to impact
Like a graceful bat
That isn’t to say haven’t heard it again
For I have never stopped
It circles my world
In a necklace of latitude
Overlapping as it swirls around
Gleeful tune becomes humming choir
Louder and denser
Until it is like a ring of Saturn
Binding me and dividing me
Between treasured past
And emergent future
Both darkened in the evening
But shimmering with starlight
-Galwyn

New Scars

I wear your memory like a scar
Beautiful or grotesque
It imitates the reality of your tale
But never to be recounted or rembered
Quite the same way

Even the reason for these marks is lost
I might say they’re from a wild beast
Or a careless love
Or a lack of grace
Wherever the case
My excuse is dishonest
Unless it shoulders the facts of it all
And doesn’t carve the truth
Into some new scars
-Galwyn

Nice

I won’t ground your roots
For the spice of life
I won’t carve a smile
With a kitchen knife
I won’t leave your heart
In a box of ice
Though your flavors do entice

For love is more than hunger
Flesh can’t have a price
Good cuts do feel younger
But true lovers feel nice
-Galwyn