Poems

A thing of silences

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I must let her slip away
My dream who woke me
Who wanted me
Who craved me

Testing my desire to stay with her desire to break free
Testing my resolve with her silence

Teasing me forward with hints of answers but instead few syllables met with incredulity when questioned.

Can you gaslight yourself by questioning what you’ve done to push away perfection

Because she’s not talking
Rationing her words like the last drops of water in the sun, hot enough to cook with, more than enough to burn

But you need her words, just a few to hold you over, a junky accepting methadone after the heady days of heroin

Am I cold turkey
Or in another silence brought on by past actions, explained and payed for a hundred times over
Made to pay again by your silence

Accepted but rejected when the truth of who I was is revealed, the catalyst to who I became. A man you said…but wait…

Said Loving you, but not I love you, somehow almost but not quite and I accepted this partial as the whole
So broken to pieces and wanting you to piece me together that I took in “loving you” like the first blush of autumn and was reborn in a statement I may have read wrong because silence can’t clarify or won’t

Bereft of finality and hoping for epiphany, not mine but yours to wake And see but only dreamers still, boldly dancing but all in bespelled silence

Denied a yes or a no or I’m thinking or let’s talk about it or you are wrong or I never meant I love you or how could I ever want you or this was a fun game to play with a heart so open or goodbye

Just wrapped in a cacophony of silence
Lost in the world without words
Without hope
Without dreams

Lost

Waiting for the silence

To break

Too soon for love?

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I see the spark of you
The hidden piece shining brightly
Pulsing with energetic light
This piece of life
It casts itself over all that you are

How can I see this and not fall a bit in love?

Am I to hide my feelings because they emerge before you are ready to hear them?

Am I to cringe back and deny what I see because I cry out to the heavens and this makes you uncomfortable?

I love the you that you are, as you are.
Am I to hide that behind like and lust?

It’s too soon they say.
But they don’t see what I see.

You are right, it’s too soon to know the totality of you.

But too soon to see enough to love?
To embrace discovery and beauty?
Why live that way?

Hiding, hoping not to get hurt.

I’d be lying if I said that my love has not destroyed me, crippled me.

But through destruction, we grow.
Through pain we are forged.
And at the end of it all, better to break for love than it’s lack.

What was may be

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A Shiver crawls along
bending the soft hair
calling to the dance
a rhythm of crimson light
pulsing
…pulsing
pressure building
syllable by syllable
waking mind from slumber
..stretch muscles pulling skin
taut against soft pad of fingertips
windows peer
blue and binding
…or slip away into dust

The blade of love

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Love is a blade thrusts slowly through muscle and bone, piercing the heart
The foreigness of the metal draws a gasp. It slowly heats to the temperature around it, slowly pulses out pain that tells us, this is love. They say that love doesn’t hurt, that it makes you feel wonderful, that it elevates you but nothing so wonderous is without a cost. Pain is intrinsic to the human condition. It’s just that some pains drive us to be more, be better people and some drive us to ruin.

No, love is a blade thrust into the heart. If we’re lucky, it stays there and if not, then it is pulled out. Sometimes, another pulls it out and sometimes we look down and find our own hands slick with blood.

But we collapse, because that blade was holding back the maelstrom and out pours every good moment, every word of beauty, everything right and spills it on the ground, drunk greedily by the parched earth.

We hold the darkness with us, we grasp what we can as the blade wrecks us, it’s always easiest to hold onto the dark.

But eventually it all goes, and we’re just shallow husks. Cicada molt, waiting to be crushed or blown away.

Spinning out

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I feel like I’m flying apart. Like I can’t hold the pieces together. Like I’m falling. Like the earth is pulling me under, like drowning but not like any of those things because at least then there would be the hope that the pain might end. There would be a chance that something could help me. Some doctor could save me. Some miracle could fix me.
The air catches in my throat and there is a lump made out of pain. As if my body is trying to help by cutting off my airways. But it’s tried this before and it didn’t help then.

I hope that unresolved questions, that could says but not going to’s will become words and answers. That there are choices yet to be made and one of those choices will lead us back together, if we are apart now because, I don’t know. I’m fracturing and it doesn’t seem to end. I don’t know how to stop it. Some minutes are lost to pain and I can’t recall what I last said or last thought.

I hope I’m crazy and jumping to conclusions. That my brain is up to its usual tricks of reading far more into a situation than is true. Because I was somehow taught to hope, that sometimes they come back.

I’m every inch, being stripped to the bone, ablated, and I’ll somehow be alive at the end. Because heart break doesn’t kill you. You just wish that it did.

I’m an idiot 

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I have never been great at not pushing. I always want one step more than I have. One step more than is warranted. One step more. 

I can’t stop it on my own. If you tell me to stop. To slow down. To calm down. I will. I need to be told, verbally, written, whatever. Someone needs to say, “You’re doing it again.” 

And I’ll say, “Oh, I hadn’t realized.”

Not that I won’t see it on my own, but only when it’s too late or almost too late. 

So, that’s one of the ways that I’m an idiot. 

Glass splinters

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He made me feel alive by looking at me
He made me feel sick when he looked away
But he would always come back and my heart would burst to sunshine
But always remember, that black night with the open door
When he kissed me I burned and when he whipped me I woke
And when he left me
I was alone with the quiet and the open doorway bleeding light into the night
In a time before I knew that I was alone
And that all my futures were empty
But there he stood,
Again
Holding my gaze and beating the pain from my bones and replacing them with fire
Until I could take no more
And collapsed against his chest and begged him to Stay
Stay with me and don’t walk away

The quickest way to leave is to want more than they give
This lesson I learned again and again but I cannot be so callous

And I made a habit of lifting them up and granting strength until I had nothing left to give

A spent thing watching them walk away, healed and better. While I break a bit more, a bit further, always hoping

And always left with nothing but a open door, spilling light,

Stalking horse

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These morning hours wait for me
Sitting around sharpening their knives
Waiting to ambush me
To drag me out into the streets and devour me
I need a word or a touch but there’s no one
The world sleeps
and these words hunt me
I burn and burst but can’t find you
dreams elude me
I need to save you or you to save me
but I’m just a word fool
hunted by hours
waiting for the sun to say wake.

I know this is depression but…

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I am nothing but a moment, a memory, a hope

Dropped glass shattered, splinters broken, time itself bleeds
False hopes play us for fools
And the ache of sleepless nights cuts deeper than bones
Happiness a fiction we spin

This last breathe fades as a night of dreams shakes off false imagery for a cold inhalation of frigid air, born anew as sun crests horizon

Last tears shed as the ache unfolds and the mind tells its pretty truths and ugly lies.

And the part that is fear gorges and speaks, the ugliness must be true for who would speak such things if they were not