Joe klemmer
Bio
Stories (9/0)
Funny
It's funny how easy love can turn to hate, as the branch snaps and your world spins while you fall to where you began, the cold floor reminds you of a home long lost, a place you thought you'd never see again. Winded as you land, the air was thinner where you used to be. Being down here feels like part of you is missing, yet you reminisce how complete you used to feel here. Up in the leaves with the one who said she'd stay, you realize that, that's where you felt the most complete, your whole you. You look in the mirror and all you see is the one thing you never wanted to be, the feeling itself sends you in a spiral within yourself as you realize this might be the outcome as many times as you try. You attempt to climb the tree over and over again, new people each time to help you on the way up, but you never make it far, the number of branches depleting each time you return to the cold void you call home. In each leave that comes down, matching you, you see a memory, a face, an old home that used to be yours.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets
All that I wrote her.
Letter: When I first saw you, my heart stopped. When I held you, it started again. You kissed me and my senses went numb, yet I still tasted your lips, still felt you. When my hand is locked in yours, our hearts intertwine. Your laugh forces a smile on me on even the darkest days. Even though we moved so fast, time seems so slow with you. What we have money can't buy, but I'd spend it all for one more second. My letter to you, -Ba
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets
I forget
I forget... I forgot my name, I know it starts with a 'C' but the rest is unclear. My bed feels familiar, but I cannot pinpoint the feeling in the past. the face that woke me brings a sense of 'home' but the man scares me; I don't know who he is. I notice a young woman knock and enter my room, "Joy," I see her name on the tag of her pale blue shirt; she hands me a few tiny oval shaped items and a glass of water on a tray. "Here are your pills for the morning Missis Cassidy, and your favorite, orange juice," the young lady greets me. All I seem to react with is a smile, I'm still not quite sure how she knows who I am, this morning I didn't even know my name. I didn't know my name, the thought scares me half to death but I attempt not to show those around me how much my mind is spiraling. I slowly try and down the strange 'pills' and juice, once I finish she takes the tray and the glass, and gives me a paper. "These are your activities for today, I made sure to give you all the things you enjoy," its almost as if she was named off of her joyful presence. The man who woke me ran his hand down my arm towards my hand, when his fingers eventually embrace mine; the feeling is warming, it scares me, I've never met this man before. He says my name "come on now Cassidy lets go," when I subtly resist his pull towards the door, when I try and stifle the shear face of fear I wear when I stare at him. he just stares at me, calmly, with those big blue eyes that feel like home, "lets go hun" his haste barely expressed. I fear that if my feelings are expressed I'll scare him away, nonetheless I ask him "who ar-" he cuts me off "I'm sorry hun I forgot, I guess part of me wants to, your memory doesn't work quite right. I'm your husband, Thomas, it might scare you but its okay I'm here, fifty six years and I still wouldn't change a god darn thing," as the words escape his lips I find myself fallen on the floor, speechless; I, a wife to a husband? He sits onto the bed and looks at me, I stay on the floor for a moment trying, scraping the edges of my mind to understand what is going on. After what seems like an age, he reaches for my hand delicately, as if in a way to apologize and thank me at the same time. I stutter to take his hand, hesitant in the fact that I am still so afraid, what else have I forgotten? I think to ask questions to my own mind, but none seem to surface. I feel trapped in my own mind, but as I take his hand a sense of serenity overtakes my mind and sets it at ease. I follow him to the corridor where several other people collaborate to get to their events that Joy had planned for them. after the lovely events, Thomas leads me back to our room, he looks so happy, as if he has forgotten a fear. I have had my own set of fears throughout the day, joy had to assist my regaining of serenity and all Thomas could do was watch, I wonder how often he has that issue. We both sat down and we had some tea in our room, "you wont remember; hun, you never seem to remember, but its okay I'll always be here." his words, though I may not fully grasp the detriment to what they mean, bring tears to my cheek. As we finish our tea and start getting ready for bed, he starts crying, no matter how hard he tries to hold it from me I can tell. He notices "your memory works until you wake up again, then it'll be like nothing ever happened." After a long talk on how we wish I would remember, and I've had another attack, we start to calm down and get ready to sleep. Words start to form on his lips but I end them "its okay, it'll be okay" and we drift off to sleep, his arms clutching my body as to make sure I don't fall, as to keep my memories inside me. My dreams; I dream of my house, I can see it clearly, a little girl, me, playing outside with a small dog as my parents watch from the balcony, the bright blue paint with its white accents and door, the big window where I can see the wonderful plants inside. I stay in this memory for a while before I go, and my final thoughts are those of peace.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Psyche
Tonight.
Tonight, we are young. The flickering moon radiates on your porcelain skin. Brings out the alluring radiation in your stoic face, your bright blue eyes. Every time we move, we shift together. The absence of feeling, the rush of senses as I touch your skin Unaware in the deceits of the world. As we gaze into one another, entranced in a dream like heaven. The jet black night, illuminated by the pale moon and dancing stars, hidden in the soaring trees; incasing us in sweet silence that sings so loud. Speaking without words, a poem of sorts, or a dance of the mind.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets
Yours.
Yours Your embrace, picks up my fallen pieces. Your smile, reflects one in mine. Your heart, keeps mine beating. Your hand, I'll hold as long as I can. Your laugh, plays in my head when you're gone. When you say "I love you," I'd go deaf for every other noise. When you kiss me, my senses go numb. When you are you, I can be me.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets