Wild dreams
consume the night
all teeth and tongue
rough mustache
on warm skin
hands seeking
once secret places
now a sanctuary
where love
and pleasure
intertwine

I wake hungry
for your touch
craving midnight
fantasies made real
but my bed is empty
no point in lingering
this morning
I settle for hot coffee
nothing more
to sweeten
Sunday

I told myself that I could handle this
that I'd make it
that I'd be fine
but my eyes have been overflowing with tears
the past 24 hours
and my wrists burn
and my head aches
and I'm back to not wanting to make it to
tomorrow

-e.w.

I remain silent . . .

but I'm afraid

that . . .

I have been

Silent

for so long



that I must speak on the inside

but on the inside I can only scream




These screams are so loud

it hurts

and I am afraid that

I have busted my ear drums

and can no longer hear myself anymore,

inevitably stuck in an endless silence, unaware that

I am hardly alive anymore

And this giant wave hit her
The epiphany she avoided
For so long

She wasn't happy
She was numb

She can't remember
The last time she felt loved

Can't recall the feeling of being held

Can't remember the last time
She still had a dream to pursue

It hit her like a Tsunami
Washing her away

She was the broken

She has been for a long time.

1627

The pedigree of Honey
Does not concern the Bee,
Nor lineage of Ecstasy
Delay the Butterfly
On spangle journeys to the peak
Of some perceiveless thing—
The right of way to Tripoli
A more essential thing.
—
The Pedigree of Honey
Does not concern the Bee—
A Clover, any time, to him,
Is Aristocracy—

unless you've felt like a ghost
condemned to haunt its own body,
unless you've ever prescribed
self-destruction as self-medication,
unless vulnerability means only telling
half your story because that's enough
to get everyone to stop asking,
unless being told "you're just like your dad"
is your greatest fear,

don't tell me you understand.

*–w.b.h.