House The Demons

He smiles, kicks back - relax...do you want a drink beautiful?
Flattery falls from his lips, diamonds of perfection
His fingers glide through his long silver hair, he's in his comfort zone
He can hold his own in a crowd of young bombers
Slow like a cat on the prowl he gets up stretches across the room - purr
His Italian leather couch oozes sex appeal NYC loft high above 
Reality is a custom bar marble slab sous chef prep 
My usual neurotic reply is like opening an old sacred love letter  
Gingerly with reluctance and insecurity, caution is first mate 
Handing me a glass - his fingers touch mine, lingering  
An intentional moment his eyes remain warm and clear
Leading the way to cheap talk and romantic reminiscing 
He says he gave up the spirits years ago but couldn't give up the ghosts
High times buzz by right side blur discarded memories - post regret
Salvage a few and letting go of the others - doesn't pay to house the demons
Fade out background dark side of the room strikes a cord
Strikes a nerve and chatter is on the vine - we step back in time
Quote of the day his mind leaves the room and he slips away -
"…I remember when the drinking age was 18 and Uncle Sam took all the boys away…"

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Wisdom Of Dorian Gray

Windowsill view 
of a world 
that has stood still 
for seven years
Seven years 
and all I can do 
and all I can say 
is that the mirrored 
image of myself 
doesn't hold a candle 
to the image or
the wisdom of Dorian Gray 
Self imposed isolation 
so many demons to slay 
ghosts that have a need 
for acknowledgement 
and a clear path 
to send them 
on their heavenly way
Chalky white lines 
have been drawn 
sidewalk zigzag 
and connecting 
all the loose ends 
from you to me 
and back around 
introspective reflecting
Things we didn't 
talk about and nothing 
can explain the path 
that was taken 
or the loss 
that was found
Here I stand
one foot 
in the clouds
the other 
firmly planted 
grave site 
in the ground
It is so obvious 
to anyone with an eye 
for the absurd
surround sound blaring
unanswered questions 
insecurities burned
...into the heart
compassionately held
yet never understood
or heard
The nights continue 
to leave me 
feeling empty handed 
a critical angst
not to spend the rest 
of my life without love
or feeling stranded
And it's not for fear of solitude 
or the emptiness of my bed
it has more to do 
with the natural notion
of how the body 
is nourished
and how the soul is fed
Windowsill view 
of a world 
that has stood still 
for seven years
seven years 
and all I can do 
and all I can say 
is that the mirrored 
image of myself 
doesn't hold a candle 
to the image or
the wisdom of Dorian Gray 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Good Friday ~ April 2011

Rose boutineer ~ April 2011

Where Have You Gone My Friend

Where have you gone my friend?
I am missing the moments
of comfort and fantasy.
When I could be
what ever I wanted
and you would grant
my every wish.
In visions
of the extraordinary
and beyond.
Simplicity sparks
the imagination,
as grandeur
tantalizes the mind.
Floating off on a cloud
watching the world go by.
Or sailing along
with a full breeze.
Letting nothing get in the way
while passions play
a game of
hide and seek.
And we could dance,
the minuet
in full royal garb,
cloak and dagger delight.
Mystery man
behind the mask
will steal a kiss
from lips to finger tips.
Traveling through time.
And if the moment
becomes too dark,
deep thoughts will
shift to light.
And I will find myself
sipping a glass of wine,
in an intimate French cafe.
With the man
that makes
the music play...
I could save the world,
or let it go!
Climb mountains high,
sail the seven seas,
and pirate your heart
laughing at the site!
Joy and love
would all rise
as the stage is set.
And if my path
takes a turn,
ghosts began to hover
or a visit from the other side.
I would smile
at the thought of you,
knowing we always have tonight.

Where have you gone my friend,
Sweetest Reverie?

© 2011 Trilby Yates

Summer 2009

Bitter Sweet Time

There is no time like the present
Keep one foot in the here and now
While the other dangles freely – wind beneath
One hand waves farewell to new comers
The other tips the head waiter with a smirk
Wooden nickels hold their value in this Land of Oz
Like souvenirs at a carnival - children smile
And even though this ghost ship is half empty
Like the champagne glass resting peacefully - aura of decadence
The heart cannot let go of dreams and visions
Plans left incomplete, anniversaries come and go

I will follow…
In time, in bitter sweet time ~

© 2009 Trilby Yates