Memories of Kate

I have these memories of Kate,
her brown hair falling tangled over her emerald eyes
her little fibs, her tiny white lies
which she'd immediately confess
as if I would hold them against her
her tight smile as I'd impress that all that
she had told me had to be true, another way
I had to say "Kate, I love you."

I have these memories of Kate,
her guilty face, petulantly defiant in the hall
her lips hot on mine as we kissed against the wall
standing on tiptoes, arms around my neck
her flimsy excuses breathed in the pauses
like retorts from a green lawyer quoting clauses
who was I to judge her as she continued to press
I'd say "Kate, I love you more, not less."

I have these memories of Kate,
her hands making love knots in my shirt
her whispers, sighs, trying to mask her hurt
would I forget my vow to keep my word
had she really doubted my intentions in what she'd heard?
Her breasts heaving as if she were fighting back sobs
my stomach quivering, my heart fearfully throbs
waiting for her eventual rejection of all of me
but then she says "Mike, I love you, silly."

I have these memories of Kate.
standing in my Deadpool tee shirt looking for her jeans
knowing I would trust her no matter where she'd been
her blushing amber, freckles on her cheeks
my desire for her right leaving me unable to speak
instead I'm falling on my knees holding up the ring
her laughter into tears as it dawns on her I'm proposing
she yells out yes as she takes the ring onto her finger
it's these memories of Kate that will always linger.

Bittersweet Moments of Kate

Whenever I close my eyes to dream away the hours that fill the spaces
in between the shadows and sun haze, I find myself deep within the
emerald essence held in her steady gaze, I want to blink but I won't
I want to hold her but I don't, It feels like a now or never, yet she is
unsubstantial as any ghost is ever, I want to kiss this phantom that
walks in my sleep, I want her to materialize out of my imagination's
deep. I want to reach out from where I lie upon the sheets, as if I can
grasp at the wisps of this vision to have, hold and keep.
She is after all, an illusion that haunts me in the dark of the night,
She is my desire made manifest, my subconscious reminder slipping
silently swift until the dream woman slides out of sight. Only her
mocking challenge remains asking me to follow, believe in everything
like hope on gossamer wings, floating like daffodils adrift in the
star reflections of this my moonlit stream, was it just a dream?
Is nothing at all what it seems but just the hint of some exotic sweet
perfume, the flash of feeling as if her presence still fills my empty
room, If I open my eyes, I am forced to admit defeat, I have to face
another life with only the memory of her kiss driving me on with
trepidation in order to meet the promise that she gives me each
mystic feathery night, Come find me, she teases as if this is just
the answer that each day I have steadily grown to love and to hate.
Such is the bittersweet moments of Kate.