The Makings of You...(short-short story)

A little sugar, honey suckle lamb
Great expression of happiness
Boy, you could not miss with a dozen roses
Such would astound you
The joy of children laughing around you
These are the makings of you
It is true, the makings of you, oh

It's been a miracle for what you've done
Please stay right by my side
Two can be one for the righteous way to go
Anyone would know
I believe I thought I told you so
You're second to none

Love of all mankind should reflect some sign
Of the words I'm trying to recite
They're close, but not quite
Almost impossible to do
Describing the makings of you

-‘The Makings of You’

See man…I be lost in long blue moans…crying black tears and vocalizing russet colored emotions that stain my floors and overturn ripe, stringent soil beneath my pregnant feet, feet pregnant with a runnin.’ A new-born runnin’ toward you, toward what we could be...

I intentionally didn’t want to remove your taste from my tongue…it was too expensive, too tedious; and besides, I needed more than just a sample of your chocolate, salty presence playing havoc with the tongue of my heart-buds…I needed the real food, the real substantial you to quiet the zesty run of my blood; the authentic sautéed you to run over my word-wearied tongue, down my sultry throat past my lungs, in need of your breeze; and finally down to your resting place within the vaulted ceilings of my belly…

I wanted to awaken at midnight to twilight pray you…wanted to priest your presence like oil within each individual pore…wanted you or that someone that I could wear like a thin layer of sweat…needed you…wanted you…wondered if you understood…wondered if you cared…

This afternoon amid the loud noise of life in red, I thought about you, I thought about them (the ones in my past) I thought about those (the ones in my current) and thought about the ones (those to come…if they’re to come)…my mind scooped up handfuls of barren and fertile thought-soil…running each strand, each thought through tired fingers, I said fingers tired of contemplating…tired of etching the same stories against walls dilapidated and kissed by weary lips of time.

Sometimes it seems easier to continue to cry over spilled milk, whine over what can’t be instead of taking that deep breath and accepting with resignation that IT, whatever that it is, won’t be while pressing onward.

The truth is…I’ve always wanted you, wanted them…and life seems warped and not familiar without wanting you or them…do…you…understand?

Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright,
Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,
Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right,
    Sence you went away.     [1]

Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue,
Seems lak to me dat ev'ything wants you,
Seems lak to me I don't know what to do,
    Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong,
Seems lak to me de day's jes twice es long,
Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song,
    Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh,
Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry,
Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,
    Sence you went away.

-‘Sence You Went Away’

©2011/bloodspeaks