your love entered me and sat in my heart
growing and growing, and then with a start
pumped through my body (every vessel
and cell, it didn’t forget a spot)
when then it engulfed me
it swirled and swam throughout my blood,
climbed the rungs of my vertebrae as i knew it would
it came a knock-knock-knocking at my brain and,
i let it in.
(and closed the door behind it)
but time heals everything
and much later (much, much later) my body began to bring
things to kill your love
this was after the kiss, after the touch
after the fights you hated so much,
after christmas at your house with your
whole family watching me as i
unwrapped the box of your love (it was
your gift to me)
slowly but surely, my veins were clean
of your love, from my head to my toes and all in between
but your love in my brain (it had been locked up) it
stayed, i had
closed the door and it couldn’t escape
so it stayed in there and we still loved
my body vacant, but not my mind above
and i told myself things would get better (they wouldn’t)
i told myself i would be happy, i would be good (i wouldn’t)
your love made me think things were fine,
hiding in the dark spaces of my mind
(i forgot i had let it in)
then i realized.
(things were not the way i pretended they were)
that my days had been a dream;
but i held fast to them, for if they died,
so would we.
i lay paralyzed by your love in slumber
dreaming of days filled with happy wonder
so then i think (to myself) will i ever wake up?
and your love, it whispers in my mind, “no”
Sadness is a deep light blue
It tastes salty and liquid
and smells faintly like roses
It’s a waterfall that continues flowing
with no one understanding its source or how it keeps circulating
It sounds like a tiny symphony… quiet,
in the back of your head
Sadness is gentle, but easy to get sucked into
It builds and builds and then simmers, but it never really goes away.
Not a warning, a sign, a premonition
Not unsure or sick with worry
Not returning in a little while
like a wave receding then lapping at the shore
But really and truly and honestly finished with you
Done with the pain that pierces my heart
that rattles my ribs, shaking them like bars
as they hold back something going mad
Done with your tongue that dances
behind your teeth, with my tongue, with your words
twisting and turning letters to create lies
Done with wishing i had the love that you’ll never give me
My favorite place to be is where I can be myself
where I can come after a long day
where I go to think and talk and listen
where I cry
This place is easy to get to
it’s never too far away from me
no one else ever goes there
My favorite place is warm
I can see you from there
I can see your worry
I hear your thoughts
This place is special, it’s mine
My favorite place to be is in your arms.
A beginning that has already begun
A liquid ball of fire climbs the mountain
Heat glazes the air, thick and sweltering
Moisture is hung in the atmosphere, fuzzy to the eyes
and burning to the skin, stopping for no one
Then the drops
A gray sky, like a shield, but also
Tiny bubbles falling, caught by everything below
All at once
beating down, these harmless bullets
But then a quiet finale, a drizzle to help you sleep
They leave their mark on every surface, now wet
coated with the ones left behind
new colors, green fading away, day
Variety in the once monotone coverage
The mountain now speckled and spotted and blotched
and then dead
gone, until next time
Preparation for the following, and a rustling wind
Crunching leaves and then the trees are revealed,
naked and rigid
Void and blank
the mountain clothed in white
Nothing but numbing blankness
Life is waiting, sleeping
while Nature continues on, unaffected
they will meet again, as they always do
Yet here is beauty in everything
There is brilliance in each snowflake
Astonishment in the cracking of ice
Amazement in the freezing cold
Calmness on the mountain
Slowing in the wind
but always there is anticipation
First, a quiet mumbling, an awakening,
a faint rustling, eyes opening
Then it picks up, the quickening pace
Blossom, ripen, stretch, emerge
Warm and welcoming
Little showers of droplets to feed this growth
A fresh mountain, sun resting in the sky
And back to where it was
Where it has been, where it will be
My real name is not hers
I no longer want to be called yours.
I am not your dog,
I won’t wait for your return.
I do not have our memories in my heart anymore
I have thrown them away.
I do not have stupid written on my forehead
I saw it there in the mirror and erased it.
I hate the sound of her name
as spoken from the lips that called mine.
I love the sound of breaking our pictures
since you love the sound of breaking my heart.
I hate the smell of you, lingering on my sheets
so I washed them eight times.
I love the smell of wine and whisky
which I’ve never tasted til now.
I do not care for the nights alone
that I used to spend with you.
I wish my hands could forget the way you feel
they still remember.
I still see in my mind, my nervous lips fluttering
they did that in the beginning.
But then I recall you saying you were done
and I only wish I would have been the one to leave
then you could have the misery.
I am flying and falling
I wonder how long until I touch the ground
I hear the people judging my every move
I see the hunger in their waiting eyes
I want to get away, to stop my decline
I am flying and falling.
I pretend I am in the world alone
I feel the surge under my wings, picking me up
I touch the clouds, lost in their haze
I worry about not being able to return here
I cry raindrops; they land on my observers below
I am flying and falling.
I understand my time here is limited
I say I must keep trying or they’ll get me
I dream to never come down
I try to fight the drowning currents
I hope to soar upwards again, as
I am flying and falling.
I am a book.
You find me closed, simple
Just like all the Others
I have no title, no indication, no
to what is inside
You may like the way
That i look, that i seem
You may not, but
It is not my choice to show
my Rips, my Tears, my dirty Cover
It is not my fault
they are there
I have been used before, I am not
New, I did not make
The people who used me
But you are unaware of my Contents, you have
to Open, to see
Once you have turned me open, all of me is there
the rest of me is at your fingertips