The Trouble with Poetry by Nicole Barth [12/28/12]

My mind was nestled
somewhere in between the cocoon of two earbuds
when I finally noticed the nameless crowd surrounding me.

The years in the fingers twisting a silver wedding band,
the Ketchup stain on a lavender shirt.
Her smirk, his wave; an arched brow.

Pieces before a game of chess.

I tinkered with a frayed audio cord;
you abandoned a train ticket.


*inspired by Billy Collins' "You, Reader"

Love Song by Nicole Barth [12/26/12]

Your embrace sheltered my frozen skin.
The freckles in your bright blue eyes said it all.

Streaks of sunlight coursed through your hair
the day I left  for a bustling city of distant melodies.

Stoplights protested the blizzard.
Snowflakes covered my eyelashes in a white mascara.
Thousands of lovely faces, but I wished for yours in the crowd.

Seamless by Nicole Barth [10/15/12]

I woke up whispering the sound of your dreams;
a compromise between the sweetness of last night's kisses
and this morning's embrace.

I reflected the breaths that grazed my skin.
Sonorous sighs trailed from me to you
in a quiet stream of acknowledgement.

Like a carnival of peace,
I moved from satin strands of hair
to the scar on your right knuckle.
A cartographer, retracing the familiar nuances of you and I.

Dreamer by Nicole Barth [9/30/12]

I am but a minute reflection
of all the late night talks I have had with you,
forever contemplating my melodramatic existence
over a venti latte with two Splendas and a bitter black tea.

The milky sweetness of your drink; the persistent pessimism of mine.
An auburn sunset ripples through your hair.
My mind drifts to the loose thread  beneath the second button of your cotton shirt.

"Hi," you whisper, leaning in to kiss the thought that creased my forehead.

Ashland by Nicole Barth [9/10/12]

If they could see how your fingers curl
around a strand of my morning hair,

your breath like silk
on my honest skin,

They would be
as in love with you as I am.

The parentheses that hold your smile.

 Beauty in its simplicity.

Alive in the silence of filtered sunlight.

My thoughts
frozen in a waiting line.

Wait by Nicole Barth [9/4/12]

Melancholy nights hit you.

And there's no reason for it,
besides searching for the image of
something you've never seen before.

That gnawing persistence that washes away the
limestone of your ribs.

No effortless stanzas in the precomposed
version of a perfected meditation.

If you only knew how to begin.

Melic by Nicole Barth [9/2/12]

We crave to be the inspiration. 

I know that in me are

the bones of a better woman.

You are the quiet in the midst of raging cities.

And I know we are all a little bit damaged.

You mend the silence that hurts to hold.