Clouds to the Makers

by Darryl Price


You'll be gone. I'll be gone. I'd hate to think

how it was all for nothing, that all we

did was stumble into a pretty big

hole of our own making. The best place for


a broken heart after all is in your

own sweet chest. No one else has much room for

another, and they are just as likely

anyway to forget they ever shared


it in their possession, or likely to

forget where they first put it down. I swear

I wasn't looking for a new painful

dream and neither were you, but oh the sad


hidden costs. You can never retrace your

best steps to the exact person you were

fast becoming, not without finding a

lonely road stuck in the way. You'll be lost.


I'll be lost. I would hate to only be

able to remember the cracks in the

ocean. But here we are with our choices

staring us in the face like hurting and


hungry children. There is no going back

to anything. You'll be very much out

of proportion. I'll be chopping the stacked

silence between us into kindling, it's


just not worth the log. You'll be big. I'll be

small. The fire will do its job, all our blue

desires will be turned into a curtain

of nonreturnable ashes, as those


ashes will float like clouds to the makers

of another cold, uncorked soaking

rain. I guess there is an end to dreaming.

Put the poem in your scrapbook to mark


its passing. You'll be married. I'll have been.

The wind and the sun will start to clean up

all the leftover debris. No one will

be the wiser. No one will hear our goodbyes.  

Bonus poem:

Your Beauty and a Sigh


Let there be only this

Moment shared with you always.

No clouds interfere with the

Color of your skin bouncing into

My eyes. It's as if


I have entered a cave

Of all my fondest dreams and

Found only you against the wall. If you

Have a name it is

Surely pronounced as everything on


This earth, all at once,

Almost as if it could

Hardly contain its own magnitude.

How am I to accept

My own place in your


Sweetest kingdom when like a

Forest animal I can only stare

After your beauty and sigh

With all my heart for

The swift sureness of a


Place called the Heavens? A home

Where you are central to

Rain and sun, and anything

That comes from that alchemy

Is better for having received your touch.