Resistance is not the hardest part.
Insistence the lost art
coupled with persistence
is why time is so important
in this instance.
You offered me the oceans
but they were too vast.
You gave me the sweetest air
but it just blew past.
You said I wouldn't remember
as if I forget fast.
You hoped I'd lean on sensation
but that never lasts.
The comfort of water
is determined by its temperature.
Surely the only signature
between firey and frigid.
A factor so wirey and rigid
could never hope to exhibit
anything identical
to the warmth of our embrace
or the unnerving chill of our distance
So the oceans will dry
before this love becomes a lie.
Wind will dictate its own pace
whether we let hearts race
or stand completely still.
Nothing concealed beneath the frills
tossed about within the gust.
Whether labeled love
or lust,
we place our trust
ever so deep into that crease
where it will remain
until life's torrents cease
so this air might grow stale
before my heart has said its peace.
Memory in servitude is a lie.
It serves no master.
Misunderstood as myrmidon to many,
it serves no one well or poor.
Memory is a winding road paved
further than the means of master and slave.
The lines bisect,
interject,
blend and bifurcate
but much more is needed
for the heartstrings that we navigate
seamlessly
seemingly
and I'll toss every moment to the embers
before I surrender the will to remember
you.
US.
To try and recall that last touch...
as thin as the finest hairs
upon your skin...
the rush and strain
of warm blood streaming through our veins...
Every wet lap
and fresh stain...
Insane how we train the mind
to think that what we left behind
would ever stay put
as if the raised foot
has nothing to do with what is real.
Images, instances, interactions, inclinations
aplenty
but all felt in that moment
only.
No more of you
on me
and perhaps that's on me
but I want that
only
and I'd lose imagination
just to hold onto that sensation.
You've given me stars and comets.
Constellations in pockets.
Crystal clear serene streams.
Warmth that collects tears for steam.
Moments as rich as candy cream
and thoughts that bring envy to dreams.
All of this in your beseech
but none of this is worth my reach.
Give me less and get me more.
This is all that I implore.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
but they were too vast.
You gave me the sweetest air
but it just blew past.
You said I wouldn't remember
as if I forget fast.
You hoped I'd lean on sensation
but that never lasts.
The comfort of water
is determined by its temperature.
Surely the only signature
between firey and frigid.
A factor so wirey and rigid
could never hope to exhibit
anything identical
to the warmth of our embrace
or the unnerving chill of our distance
So the oceans will dry
before this love becomes a lie.
Wind will dictate its own pace
whether we let hearts race
or stand completely still.
Nothing concealed beneath the frills
tossed about within the gust.
Whether labeled love
or lust,
we place our trust
ever so deep into that crease
where it will remain
until life's torrents cease
so this air might grow stale
before my heart has said its peace.
Memory in servitude is a lie.
It serves no master.
Misunderstood as myrmidon to many,
it serves no one well or poor.
Memory is a winding road paved
further than the means of master and slave.
The lines bisect,
interject,
blend and bifurcate
but much more is needed
for the heartstrings that we navigate
seamlessly
seemingly
and I'll toss every moment to the embers
before I surrender the will to remember
you.
US.
To try and recall that last touch...
as thin as the finest hairs
upon your skin...
the rush and strain
of warm blood streaming through our veins...
Every wet lap
and fresh stain...
Insane how we train the mind
to think that what we left behind
would ever stay put
as if the raised foot
has nothing to do with what is real.
Images, instances, interactions, inclinations
aplenty
but all felt in that moment
only.
No more of you
on me
and perhaps that's on me
but I want that
only
and I'd lose imagination
just to hold onto that sensation.
You've given me stars and comets.
Constellations in pockets.
Crystal clear serene streams.
Warmth that collects tears for steam.
Moments as rich as candy cream
and thoughts that bring envy to dreams.
All of this in your beseech
but none of this is worth my reach.
Give me less and get me more.
This is all that I implore.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
