The Present

Anticipation is a drug, 

lifting me higher and higher 

with every minute, every hour,

I wait for you. 

The present is reality

glaring at me with sobering eyes;

it warns my heart to step lightly. 

It reminds me never to forget

other times like this.

But, when I see you, things are easy.

There is no past, no future.

There is only the present. And we

know how to live in the moment.

I carry you with me, 

after you go, leaving behind 

the faint scent of your cologne; 

it is even more apparent  

when the breeze tosses my hair.

© 2013 Helena Malheur

You and I

You and I,

We were extraordinary --

We were unstoppable;

But we left our doors ajar

And the world barged in.

We carried on   

Treading on a tightrope 

Living 

A disillusioned life --

One that was not to be or

Perhaps, it needed not to be. 

We were bystanders  

as despite and devotion 

Coexisted as one --

Perplexed by one another,

Yet insisting on one another.

Perception and reality

Converged and diverged

With each action and reaction,

Stretching the bounds 

Of our fidelity

Until it was no more.

© 2013 Helena Malheur

J.B.

I Am None the Wiser

I loathe fate 

for it has fondled

my heart 

in unconscionable ways.

Age has not done me

any great justice either.

I am none the wiser 

than when I was a toddler.

I speak semi-eloquently

and can hold my liquor;

I doubt that qualifies

as anything significant. 

I love restlessly

and hope endlessly.

The cycle never stops. 

Like a drunken rat in a maze

I never arrive at the prize.

© 2013 Helena Malheur  

Know the Unknowable

Is your heart un-breakable?

Can I count on it 

to be gentle and kind  (even at your worst)?

Can I know it,  admire it -

Can I depend on its fidelity?

I would let you see me

if I could believe you will;

believe that if I let go

of reluctant sentiments

I may be free to be free.  

Is your love undoubtable?

Can I feel the fire burn

without fear it'll burn out?

Can I see it, hear it, 

trust it with certainty? 

I would let you love me

if I could believe you will;

believe that if I learned

to be and to breathe,

I may know the unknowable. 

© 2013 Helena Malheur  

I Don't Know Your Voice

I don't know your voice.

I know the depth of your gaze,

the resonance of your touch,

the linger of your kiss.

You are perfectly awkward

and sly in corridors; you're

ever so present, tender,

in singular moments;

still, you are absent

as the sun after dusk.

And though I am one who

practices guarded abandon

to near perfection,

it is no match for your sway.

I felt my power dissolve  

in a solitary moment -

an unspoken moment -

where you held our ground.

Now, I sift through this urge

to hear your words, to feel

the temperate climate

under your chest, to listen

to your breathing

in sleepless, unforgiving nights.

I wait, clutching dreams

with enough fantasies and fears 

to begin and end

a hundred love affairs.

I shall learn to forget you

when the moon goes home.

© 2013 Helena Malheur

L.A.

Doubt Wins

Fear

brews

in silence;

doubt settles

like dew at dawn,

sweating on everything.

But, the need to be sought

is grander than the frustration

of betraying one’s own thoughts.

Hope rides along, reluctantly;

it aims to mollify a fixation,

submitting to an impulse,

an itch. It always ends

with a balancing act

of love and life

in unrest.

Doubt

wins. 

 © 2013 Helena Malheur