Famous blue raincoat

It's  four in the morning, the end of December  
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better  
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living  
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening  
   
I’ve written bygone letters  
and had 4am eyes more times than most  
even realise  
I’ve found it in the echo of steel-caped boots  
on asphalt and in the mist of my breath as I wrestle  cold wrought iron gates  
   
however December here is an inferno  
similar to the one we melted  
the neighbours eyes with  
when we left the blinds open  
my melancholy tastes like  
blue rain and cold tears  
my coat doesn’t work here  
though I love where I’m living  
as I descend into madness  
because the drought has cut through  
all the pretty lies  
   
I can’t see you wear that  
famous blue raincoat  
though it might be for the best  
because my heart is brittle and was never  
made to withstand you or me  
or every poor decision I poured  
into glass over ice  
   
I can still taste your lips  
and the silent moment  
our breathing came back to normal  
 
I still have the lock of your hair  
framed next to a revolver  
so I can blow my brains out with it  
every day  
 
but at least it’s 4am and  
I can cling to those memories  
before the sun burns them from my eyes

Christmas has passed,
and the new year approaches.
I encroach upon you
with a belated text.
The pretext is the weather
to remind you
of everything we have been through.
The snow was our serenity.
Snowflakes fall, and I
want you to know that I walk
for blocks in the symphony
of the busy streets alone.

I have a bittersweet
but upbeat feeling reading your reply.
You have established roots
where it does not snow.
Still, I hope the fruits of your labor
are savored and receive water from the oasis.
I hope you have traced a map
and taken snapshots
to keep track of your adventures.

He and I were deeply hurt
when you decided to venture off.
Leaving us divided
in the wake of a decision hastily made.
Your faded eyes expressed
how you crashed that night.
You could not suppress the ache
of confronting your past.
The last time we saw you,
you needed to regain focus.

Will you discuss
the wisdom you have gathered?
Show me some signs
that you have found a path
and that the wrath
has not shattered your soul.
You seem in control,
yet you have not let go
of the garment, now crestfallen,
that I gave you decades ago.
Tattered over time, callin' in,
to show me your strife.
At least tell me life has not taken
your mind far away from here.
Since being awakened,
the look on your face has been sorrowful.
I bought you a vase, but you returned
without your favorite flower.
Somehow the hours came and went,
and you cut the thorns from my rose.
I suppose you shared a moment,
creating this path of destruction,
and the introduction of a free man
came through the door.

Smug and bold in your expression,
your impressions as a grifter
start to imprint into this moment.
He cannot recognize you;
he squints as he glares,
yet fair advice is offered
from his caring heart.
I take notes and start to wonder
what words I could say to the antagonist.
Far beyond the midst of thoughts
and I am still rendered speechless.
Nevertheless, my once close friend,
you have my forgiveness
because secretly, I feel blessed
I could not fulfill my plans.

Lifetimes may span,
but if you ever find yourself close by,
come in and engross yourself in a friendship.
The ships have sailed,
so let the rivalry rest
and watch him fly like a bird.
It is absurd how you dissolved
the sadness behind his stare.
I swear I never figured out
how to ease his pain, so I left it.

Moonlit souls were damaged
in the wake of a decision hastily made.
Your faded eyes expressed
how you crashed that night.
You could not suppress the ache
of confronting your past.
The last time we saw you,
you needed to regain focus.

Did you drain the guilt
flowing through your veins?

It’s four in the evening, the end of October.
I’m writing you back.  I hope that you’re sober.
The desert is hot, but I’ve got a cold heart.
Who’d guess that a pixie could peel us apart.
I hear you stay hammered upstairs in Manhattan.
Jane sends me her selfies in fishnet and satin.

Yeah, and she snorts all of your coke by the sink,
wearing the coat that you tore
the night you had too much to drink,
and you slept on the floor.

The last time I saw her, we made love in Boulder,
nude on the lift.  She said New York was colder.
I gave her a gift that she wrapped up in plastic.
She said you flipped out; lost your head in a basket.
She mentioned I stole her like a rose from a vendor,
her heart on my shelf and your balls in a blender.

Well, I saw her blades spinning
right from the beginning,
Well, your woman’s awake,
no use in pretending.

She said I was just a mistake.
A part of you died when she slipped me inside,
and the furniture started to quake.
The noise had a razorblade clink
on the floor by the door in the coat that you tore
that night you had too much to drink.
Yeah, she snorts all your coke by the sink.

Sincerely…

 
To say I don't
love you as if
hands glide
smooth over
crushed velvet

or something
perfectly tidied
into little boxes
with neat labels,

I love you like
all creatures
deserve to
be loved

be it working
or going against
a humble grain

I love you in light
and darkness, be
it standing or sitting
without agenda
or trivial issues.


I love you this way
because this is
the only way I
wish to know

because your smile
and laughter is rain
my blue raincoat  
always desires to
be soaked in

I love you;

knowing when
I close my eyes

my dreams
turn into your
dreams in the
early hours,

long after
every ache
echoes out
from every
window.

You're the sunshine
That brought the rain

She unfolds the umbrella
The moon has a friend

A daring light
In the clearest days

It's nonstop
Duality

Look for the rainbows
In the horizon

People in raincoats
The sun constantly dividing

Conquering the weak

But for those who overcome

Are left alone
With knowledge

They are the demons.