Surrender
And be borne
Falter
Heart breaks open
Drowning
Without you by my side
poetry
Spring makes me a bitch
This pain is epic or nonexistent from one minute to the next.
Forget to be sad or happy but consciousness is a curse.
Unhappy me is a vicious tongue waiting for an opportunity to cut.
To destroy and bask in the surprised looks and startled laughter.
Waiting to take it too far or right up to the line but not over.
Waiting for you to take offense so that I can push further.
Profoundly unhappy makes me seem normal.
Like all the rest but honesty in the hands of a unhappy masochist with nothing to lose is a blade wielded with glee.
Join me in my pain and dance a blood frenzy of broken hopes.
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Nerve endings wake
Cold shivers its way across the ridges of my spine
soft breath caresses and holds
words spoken at a volume at once too quiet and a clamor of joyous ringing
this long drawn out moment of perfection free of any thought but desire
tension falling away with a touch
And a the palpable feeling
of connection
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Last struggle
Soft rays beat through the falling night
Waking in themselves a hope of a new dawn
Rain before the fall, light before the darkness, sorrow before love
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Delightful carnivore
She’s soft and she bites
What’s not to like?
Affectionate and strong
Love’s to dance and to play
Darling girl, what’s not to like?
She growls and she runs
It’s all just for fun
What’s not to like?
She watches and waits
Always happy to see me
What’s not to like?
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Lost in the quiet morning
In my youth
I thought to remake the world or burn it
to break it and rebuild
but somehow those dreams slipped away
replaced by just trying to be content
to find a way clear of sadness
looking for and finding
failing and loss
breaking and broken
it was I that was lost.
And somehow I woke
but always craving the dream
a world where you loved me
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Hearts fall apart
Ropey muscles unspooled from the heart like a cat’s cradle
this pain seesawing between obliteration and oblivious
my mind following its well worn path to you
blocked by uncertainty,
while I await a verdict or a verb,
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The nows don’t stop
That voice, that twitch, that used to mean
that touch, that breathe, that shiver
that loss, that reaching, that overcorrection
that sobbing, that endless search for traction, that waiting
that tired, that sleep, that waking
that sob, that long look back, that hope
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A thing of silences
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
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What was may be
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
Pelgris 