Lone Tree - Rachel Schneider

Sunset Over Atlantic

The tan line on my ring finger has faded,

just another reminder of the time we’ve lost

since that day at the beach when my ring

washed away with the tide. We couldn’t afford

to replace it. Maybe I should have taken that as

a sign.

Crime of Passion

I saw you, anonymous among the masses, a

passerby spending some time. Come closer,

lead me into artificial intimacy. Body on body,

eat me, crave me. A strange, succulent sweet.

Are we still strangers? I feel I know you so well.

Do you even know my name? Does it matter?

Give me more and who we are won’t matter.

Under these pulsing lights we could be anyone.

I am yours, sweet stranger, just for this song.

Let the beat hide our fears, inhibitions, and

those who are holding us back. The air is hot,

you stick to me. Sweaty sheets and mussed up makeup.

Track 4

You step over the threshold to the

          sounds of Beethoven and Mozart. Beautifully

                    complicated, an enigma I plan to spend

my life solving. Figuring you out is a

          full time job, but all I’m paid is promises

                    and disappointments, affection and fear.

The definition of forever grows smaller

          and smaller, a wrung out sponge. Will

                    we be the ones to soak it full again?

Arpeggios leave out what’s in between.

Sometimes

Sometimes I wish you hadn’t died.

You left him so broken, beyond repair.

It was all I could do to keep him afloat,

treading water, a burden too heavy

for me to lift. You left him drowning

in unspoken love, unable to let go of

a deflated life preserver.

Sometimes I wonder what you’d think of me.

If you could would you thank me or would

you tell me that I could never heal him?

It was my job to gather the wreckage

you left behind. I taught him to love again,

but I could never teach him to let go.

I could never empty the ocean of hurt.

Sometimes I believe we could have been friends.

He clung to me too, driftwood in the open sea.

We must have something in common. He said

he thought I would like you. Even when his

heart was sore and his lungs were filled,

drowning in the memory of you. Friend,

can I tell you a secret?

Sometimes I hate you more than anything.

I hate what you did to him. I hate that no matter

how far away you are he can’t let go of you.

I hate that he will always love you, how he

doesn’t know how not to love you. I hate

you for dying – not that you chose to die. I wish

you had chosen. Maybe then he’d accept it.

Sometimes I feel like the other woman.

He’s still swimming through the waves,

fighting the current to get to you as if he

doesn’t realize you’ve already been pulled under.

I try to bring him back to shore, to my safe

harbor, but he’s still anchored in you.

Sometimes I think you are selfish.

When you had him you took him for granted,

and yet you held him tight enough to keep

him clinging to you like a buoy out at sea,

clinging to you for air. And now he still clings.

You can’t tell him to let go. Not that you would.

Sometimes I wish he had never met you.

Sometimes I am happy that you’re dead.

Sometimes I wish you never existed.

New Years Eve - Rachel Schneider

Medium:

Prismacolor Pencils and Sharpie on Paper

The Boy That Never Was

There’s a candle in my window for

the boy who never was.

It flickers just as brightly as

the laughter in his eyes. The warmth

inside his heart is matched by nothing

but the flame, and the tiny drips

of melted wax, intricate as his mind.

The candle burns to mourn this boy,

the one I could have loved.

He may have lived - this boy, indeed.

But mine he never was.

Winter

A special snowflake disappears on warm skin

just like all the others.

Frost laden bark skeletons scar the sky,

casting shadows in the sub-zero sun

shining on the deathly pallor coating the ground.

The branches look so alone

without leaves to bridge the gaps.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

There is no desire left to melt this frozen world.

Glass Bottle Wrapped in Cloth - Rachel Schneider

Medium:

Graphite on Bristol Paper