An Incomplete List for the Girl of My Incomplete Dreams


I have been writing poetry in one form or another since grade school. Though I prefer writing long form fiction, there is something cathartic about putting my thoughts and feelings down in a poem. I wrote this poem towards the end of 2008. My marriage ended, and I had fallen hard for someone new. I penned the poem as a response to a question she had asked me, “why did I like her?” It is one of my favorite poems from the last decade, though I am not sure the recipient cared much about it. Her response was lackluster, but that was her demeanor the whole time we were together.

An Incomplete List for the Girl of My Incomplete Dreams

In dark, I responded lightly;

passing it off to you being cool.

The heat and sleep inside

   and your voice said, “go.”

And part of me wondered if you meant forever

   or if it would just feel like it.

In the first moments of forever,

   the Question stood with hands in pockets waiting patiently.

“Salutations,” he gleaned from classic children’s literature, “begin.”

She wears her personality like lovers wear their hearts and dreams on sleeves;

   vibrant and full of life.

She walks among the empty graves of dying art forms

   mixing hope and kindness;

   ambitions and unassuming smiles.

She walks tall and strong

and bright

and sharp

and makes threats feel like moments of joy.

She is fun like children and waves and swings and melodies.

She is confident and clear like summer skies without interruptions.

She knows hurts and scars,

   but dreams

   and soars

   and brightens

   and shows compassion when anxiety removes all life from houses

   and cares for friends with deep convictions

   and mirrors the beauty of bright new days


       the run-on ran on drowning all word constructs before it;

   just like she drowns all other thoughts from my head.

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