First snow

The fog hugged the sky like a heavy blanket. Outside, the habitual blaring of the Brooklyn Boulevard - the sirens, the hurtling tires and impatient horns - was suddenly muffled, as if the day had finally covered its ears to the world. The lazy lovers laid in bed expectantly, their hearts soft, their eager bodies palpitating to the rhythm of a fresh romance. Each whimpering waft, every rustling leaf indicated its advent, like the hump of an ocean wave making its way from the distance. They held each other in silence, each second suspended in the anticipation of an important arrival. She drew the curtain aside, and just like that, as calm and angelic as the lullaby of a new mother, came the snow once again. 

-LBCH

Retrograde

Let’s say I was to believe that we are somehow connected,
that my heart is as swollen as the moon,
with a love so full it hurts;
that it knows of unbearable Beauty, 
protects it from above, 
with a night that glimmers golden,
smooth, 
like a newly paved highway. 
Let’s say I was to believe that we are somehow connected, 
that at its heaviest, inflated with light, 
a beam of passion and compassion, 
it can bear the most pain, inflicting it in return,
silently suffering, watching a world that comes and goes 
like an ocean tide,
and yet can do nothing but shine among a field of blanketed darkness, 
impenetrable,
and thick as oil, 
again and again, even when we expect her to fail,
that it is possible to be desired, 
even adored,
and still feel 
oppressively lonely.

-LBCH

They stared at each other, digging for answers in gazes, like flipping through the pages of a history book. 
They stared, searching for clues, patterns, signs unheeded that might have led them to this moment. 
They stared at each other for what could have been eternity, a moment existing outside of time, cold blue crashing into bark -their eyes, drops of water, like a full moon melting into the reflection of a river. 
And having found nothing, no recipe or guarantee, no particular design, they understood love, like one knows not to question the vitality of nature. 
And not knowing what to do next, they simply kept loving.

-LBCH

She sat next to the windowsill watching the rain come down. She remembered the time they had disagreed on the sound of raindrops. “Pitter patter,” said the one. “Tap tap,” said the other, their voices hushed beneath the sheets, their arms interlaced, as if they were meant to hold each other forever. The rain kept coming down calm, performing its duty, and she could no longer remember what side she had been on during that rainy day. It didn’t matter now anyway, except that she wished it did. Some realizations came a little too late, she knew, and with it the unbearable echo of helpless memories. She closed her eyes, took a breath of acceptance, and listened to the rain continue to beat itself slippery onto the window. 

-LBCH