careema cooper

Sweet November (The Runaway)

For a month I breathed with the living and rotted with the dead.
I blew high with the breeze and stood waiting by the sun.
After seventeen years my existence was forgotten- this was true.

For a month I escaped reality.
Chanting with demons, dancing with wolves, falling in roses and dreaming unbelievably...

...all the while, his hand in mine,
I was intertwined with a public enemy...

We vandalized brick walls, leaving permanent art every bitter loner would despise.
We combined words and created stories only we could understand...
...stories concieved on an empty belly from the deepest hole in our hearts.

We dismantled eachothers minds.

Shared thoughts,
exchanged secrets,
shared bodies and exchanged mouths.

We lived each day dying, thanking HIM for so many glorious days.

We pushed on our breathless souls to continue on,
to go beyond the suspended limits of mankind.
We wrestled down the law, escaping their minature cages.

We tiredly kissed away the night and layed upon eachother,

We flicked away our tragic, clinging memories,
hung up our heavy, burdening capes and slipped on the light-weight, warming comfort of love.

Then we wrapped around our necks, the longest trail of colorful fabric, to be hung by the beauty of life.

We ran with our noses in the air - clean of blood -
proud of our love,
proud of our rebellion,
proud of our newly found joy.

We lost ourselves in eachothers eyes and explored eacother inside and out.
Limb by limb,
bone by bone,
brain to mind,
blood to heart,
eyes to soul.

Breaking into eachother, like waking the dead...

...all the while, his hand in mine,
I was intertwined with a public enemy...

Intertwined with my own protector,
Intertwined with a human sheild.

I was hand in hand with a grave robber,
hand in hand with a giver of life.

For a month we fell so close,
like cold water on melting ice.

Cradled by the darkest of nights, I was his his devine moon.

I was a feather on the wings of bird so fiece, whipping through the air.
I was somewhere on the whitest cloud by the bluest piece of sky, wherever it was that it ended.
I was an abandoned ship sailing on an endless sea.
I was loved like a newborn.
I was someone.
I was remembered, never forgotten.

I became alive...

...My sealed brown eyes reopened that November...

...That sweet, sweet November

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 21, 2012

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