An eye for an eye

I will give you my eye if you need it.
Or my hand if you ask for it.
What is an eye and what is a hand
if you already have all of me?
You didn't even ask for anything.

But you already have everything,
though you do not even know
that I have already given you
my eyes, my hands and my heart
far too long ago.

As Always

I found you again after three long months of silence.
As always.
You never told me you were coming.
That was you, you said.
As always.

The minutes stopped. Everything else faded away.
You gave me the best conversation. Even silence was bliss.
As always.

I thought I had already moved on.
Knowing that you will always be a dream.
I was wrong.
As always.

You are real. As before.
You stir me up. All the more.
A glimpse of heaven so beautiful.
Yet so momentary.
As always.

I took the risk.
You left me wounded.
I move on.
You were worth it.
As always.

Everyday I live my life knowing that somewhere in the world
There's you.

As always.

The trouble with my memory

Lately, I've been having problems with my memory.
So many faces, places, and information I can no longer recall.
Sometimes my mind goes blank
That I wonder if I ever lived at all.

And then I remember you.
As vivid as the first time I met you
And that was three years ago.

And now I know.

The trouble with my memory,
as far as I can tell,
Is that it forgets all other details
but remembers you too well.

Wandering

You say, "There goes your wanderin'..."
I say, "There it goes but I'm wandering still."

You have no idea.
Wandering is everyday you're not around.

Silence

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love--
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishers go--
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song--
But how can I give silence,
My whole life long?

-Sara Teasdale

Sanctuary

I have remembered beauty in the night,

Against black silences I waked to see

A shower of sunlight over Italy

And green Ravello dreaming on her height;

I have remembered music in the dark,

The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach's,

And running water singing on the rocks

When once in English woods I heard a lark.

But all remembered beauty is no more

Than a vague prelude to the thought of you--

You are the rarest soul I ever knew,

Lover of beauty, knightliest and best;

My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,

And when I think of you, I am at rest.



-Sara Teasdale