The unsaid things create the sharpest wounds

I find myself in vulnerable moments
Cut open and flayed
Words which seem true
My heart broken
Believing and not believing
Wondering if what
My brain says is true
Possessed with faith in Intuition
Faith in feeling
Faith in perception
To have that scalpel turned inwards
Whispering fears
Whispering truth?
How could I know?
When the lines blur
When I am not strength
Not safe
Not home
Just another person
Wishing to be whole
But what would that even look like

When memories thought inviolate slip away beyond reach

Feeling broken for no particular reason
No glaring signal saying this is the red flag
This is where the healing will begin
Instead just hurting
Just a bag full of empty
Spilling out over symptoms
The endless seeking of distractions
Anything to not think except in those moments between cease and sleep
Where all that was held away comes crashing down through paper walls which held it at bay
Thin constructs fooling myself that this is a normal life and these are normal activities
Fundamentally seeking but burned out from the search
Looking for a reprieve but places aren’t safety
Just defensible rooms
People have ever been my succor
Holding and taking care of those I love heals me
Keeps me going to the point where you say you want to see my darkness
But become Mired in light
Because the darkness retreats when my love is allowed expression
Wrong to say it’s gone but it retreats to lurk and wait in ambush
Too tired to even think about suicide
Instead yearning for sex, something passive, to be done to me while I curl and cry
Anything just to feel more than empty
I’ve been seconds from the ledge, one steps from jumping and still this all consumption of emotions is worse
This endless expanse of nothing
Stretched borders making for the treeline
Drowning in the blood of mourning
Lost without her Yes or Sir
Masters have demons too
Ours just seem like controlled because they are control
Perfection is a lost art
Artists lost in the false storms of embrace
A yes away from hell or salvation
One more chance
One more piece broken
One more piece of jagged glass
Still capable of cutting me free

Crystalline disappearance in the first rays of dawn

Bitter ache slips down veins into bone
Dull burn on tip of tongue
Speech crashes
Silent breaks as frost
Capillaries widen
Panic or heartbreaking
Slow catching of breath
Split between hoping for one or the other
Begins the endings
And rusted wounds
Weep iron shavings
Last memories fading

What was is lost, what will be is unknown

We were all unbroken once
All dancing our way through lives without fear

Maybe I’ll break enough to be powder
And I’ll know what it is to be again unbroken
Different pieces suffused into a whole
Strong again

No longer sifting bloody hands through broken glass
Trying to get enough pieces to put back together
But whole
As this new thing

No longer trying to get back to a was
Seeing what is
And accepting a way forward
As this
My new self

Give and take

There is nothing I can give you
And nothing I can take
A shadow long and burning
A moment ere I wake

But I am lost to dreaming
I am lost, it’s true
The dream is of my making
Of building more to you

I am softly waking
A moment I’m confused
Your warmth has long fled
This heart we built for two

On waking I am empty
A space too big to fill

Your heart is slightly broken
But I have seen much worse
I will patch you up
Be a Latticework

You will heal
And when you leave
I will be undone
but a little fuller too

I will hold the hope that wounded birds
Made whole and now to fly
Will remember that broken man
And visit time to time

And secret kept in heart of hearts
That one will wish to stay
The foolish hope that brings,
And holds the reckless
tears at bay

Just the Opposite

I’m tired now.
Sick now
Having drunk midnight wine
I find myself back in the daylight
A memory or a dream
Either have left their mark.
You see it coming but the on rushing train
Is as much exhilaration as danger.
It slams into
Breaking down well worn edges.
Fracture points of the past
I awake now, blinded by the sun
Aching and staggered.
Should have been content, should have been simple.
Let time do its work.
But never content
A roll of the dice
A razor balanced on its edge