Bobby still remembers his High School Sophomore year
Rarely do his other memories still ring so clear
But he also recalls letters to Christine (his girl at the time)
They are so vivid he can quote every line
Sometimes they skipped their classes just to talk for a while,
He adored that girl to madness,
her brilliance and style
That year was precious,that year was a bit wild
He's not living with any regrets,
That year and that girl left impressions he'll never forget
By: J.N.R Dutton
A wise man unwritten letter
To his future self
A prickly feeling that keeps one on their feet
You notice the other but never yourself
You make time for the other
Stand on your feet and call out mistakes
A wild free feeling
Wanting for the wind
Can't grasp it
It's fleeting yet memorable
A whisper in the morning
A loud cry in the night
Exchanged letters and clothes
To become a memory no one should talk about
Cupcakes on Mondays
Sorbet on Thursdays
But you preferred Saturdays
Confessions said out loud
The heart not so sure
A wild free feeling
It's the magic they all talk about
To only turn devastating and tragic
Makes you wonder
It changes
Against two people
What becomes of it when a third arrives?
I haven't experienced it
But this is my definition
Comprehension is never taking seriously
Only the lucky ones
What is it actually?
It's quite haunting and daunting
If you ask me
I wanted to know what it was like
But I was scared my balloon will fly away
When I give it out
Those icy blue glances,
laced with silver moonlit streaks,
glistened in the late summer sun.
Shaped in little orbs beneath lush brows,
they held a gaze too intense to ignore.
There, my heart's curiosity once lay.
Did he know how much I adored the way he adored me?
How his laughter painted my days in gold?
Like a hopeless romantic lost in a midnight tale,
I let the story write itself—
stolen glances, quiet smiles,
a smirk that felt like a secret between us.
But love is not a fairytale, nor a mural,
and I—
I was never meant to be someone’s.
Not his, not anyone’s.
Yet, in the silence where his voice once lived,
I find the echo of what we almost were.
The wind still hums his name,
a whisper of something unfinished,
but I let it drift,
softly, like a memory that never quite became love.
The heavens opened and poured thunderously,
Sending all beasts deep into hiding.
Birds cooed softly from their nests,
As trees swayed to the wind’s wild song.
As the rain softened to gentle drops,
He clasped her hand, steady and warm.
Gazing sheepishly at her angelic face,
He led her across the emerald plains.
His heart hammered, trying to break free,
As doubt tightened its grip around his throat.
Fear snatched the vows he longed to voice,
So he let the wind whisper for him.
Summoning courage, he parted his lips,
But the words betrayed him once more.
"I do," she whispered with a knowing smile—
She had already read his heart.
A Young Night
The moon softly lit the night,
and the wind whispered gently.
The sea hummed a tender tune,
as crickets sang in harmony.
It was a young night—our first together.
My pulse quickened beneath her gaze,
her smile held me captive,
my heart whispered: now or never.
She let her guard slip,
And I gladly took the hint.
Kisses deepened, sighs entwined,
until the world faded—
and we both surrendered, breathless
We had become one,
Forever.
Young love
was a sunrise
that took our breath away;
today as sun sets, still in love
we stay
Stolen kisses
After Sunday prayers
This brings me back to my vineyard days
Playing fools
Feeling like warriors
Humming the song of the mockingjays
Walking glistening streams
Dreaming sizable dreams
Under moonlight beams
Caught in a violet haze
Promises kept,
What can’t be said will be wept
I’ll find my way to you in every maze
My heartiest devotion
To this fleeting notion
Vows whispered gently
Now written in blood
For the longest I believed that time decays
But you’ve restored the faith of my vineyard days
Though I lament the death of former youth,
a time of naive innocence and sweet bliss,
which hid from me life's dark, unpleasant truth,
and withheld forbidden pleasures that I miss;
a time of brawny beauty and strong thews,
as of Greek gods of Olympian prime,
like Hercules of fabled strength, sinews,
and might of once renown from mythic time.
But mighty Zeus, how I desire most for
the renewing of my now loveless life,
which longs for the fair maidens of folklore,
whose tenderness only can quench loss's strife!
Because of my decline's increasing years,
I lose young love as life's twilight appears.
It seemed to me that time stood still,
the moment that we met.
I stumbled over words to say,
I never will forget.
You took my breath away that night,
you still do even now,
and every memory that we’ve made
seems new to me somehow.
I guess it’s because since that night
my life has been a dream,
where every day you take my breath
away and so, it seems
that although many years have passed
all I can ever do…
is fall in love with you again
like when our love was new.
At the very cusp of winter dawn,
Before the sun wake from slumber,
The narrow alleys lay bare and silent,
The moon slowly fade from existence.
It is at this hour when feet hit gravel,
Rushed steps race against time.
The winds carry distant heartbeats,
That of a woman barely nineteen.
The youth of her fragile soul,
Thunders against her bosom,
As she nears the clock tower,
Holding testaments across time.
A man barely out of youth,
Slips out of the shadows,
Their fingers barely grazing,
His own heart raging still.
A change of hands for the epistle,
Delicate letters weaving tales,
Of those not to be spoken in daylight,
Finding refuge in the solitude of night.
She met him first time,
When he pulled at her pigtail,
She declared war then.
Her first crush ghosted,
So he was on call all night --
Both their hearts breaking.
She failed her math test,
He wove lies that he did too --
Just to share her woes.
That boyfriend of hers?
Called her ugly; The next day-
Showed up with black eye.
She jokingly asked,
If he ever loved; His eyes -
Could not hide it well.
She met him again,
When she walked down in white -
To his blinding smile.
Cradling her close then,
He kissed her for all the years
Before and to come.
They asked me if I'd ever been with someone.
I told them,
I have been with a girl.
I talked to her until the moon turned to sun,
and an absence of childhood stories
became our own tale of normalcy being absent from our lives.
Childhood dreams not yet realized,
because heterosexuality was not realized in them.
Love didn’t follow you from junior high,
It lingered in corners like and made you sigh,
Your eyes sought faces, but none remained,
Only silence where your laughter reigned.
The halls are long, the lockers gray,
You walk alone through the first day,
Your broken mirrors—your beating heart,
Like ocean waves that drift apart.
Outside the windows, the branches lean,
Bushes and trees filled with leaves of green,
They whisper of summers already gone,
Of childhood’s song and its softer dawn.
Flowers bloom in the tender light,
Opening slowly to morning skies,
Dear blossoms rising, their petals near,
Touching the heavens, unclouded, clear.
But you—still waiting for love to start,
Carrying quietly heis fragile heart,
Dreams that shimmer but fall away,
Like glass at dusk, like mist at day.
Yet somewhere hidden, a promise grows,
In roots unseen where your gardener knows,
That even the loneliest soul will find
A gentler hand, a heart aligned.
So you walk beneath the sap filled trees,
Your breath a prayer, your steps a plea,
And the morning answers with fragrant air,
You are you and yes, quite rare.
I feel your unrehearsed pauses--
the rustle of a blue shirt in leaving
a tangy ache your firm lips make,
holding back cold, collected words.
This rendezvous ... a slow-fire quiver
an ending which has it's own interment;
and outside, night wrestles with time
brittle dew against my eyes, dry mouth
licking an estranged bite that reminds me
of your frivolity . Until sighs
become hollow and stuttering
like a thirst from a weltering breakwall.
So it is with discovery,
the trails of affection are never mine
as I call you grimly,' 0 heart-breaker'
while banging shells litter on the dunes
as this heart shrinks from tangled lies:
There is still much to learn about
young passion... needles upon my chest
losing you from sight like a migrant breeze...
for a woman , fragile at eighteen.
eyelids half open, half closed
there’s a warmth that lingers,
a warmth that grows.
iridescent, so sweet, it glows.
sweet air of yours, hear my heart;
it beats, it slows.
fill my lungs, recalcitrant, incapable,
aren’t you worried?
tell me,
can i please be yours?
you have looked at but never seen
all these inner parts of me:
depths of my soul, ache of my throat,
the words i carve,
please.
let me speak.
please.
please love me like our scars,
love me like birdsong.
let your laugh be my melody,
the air, relief that fills my lungs;
the sight of colour im so incapable of.
only sixteen,
us, too old, too young,
you, too brash, too dumb.
me, too scared, too slow.
for the undying love,
i promised you so.
i never told you how i felt.
i
n
e
v
e
r
relapse, wrung out, dry.
retreat, let us. repeat.
the lies, you’ll uncover with time.
but this life is nothing,
this vessel empty and mundane.
tell me,
can you please be mine?
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