Raindrops raining rings
On coffee cup surface.
Too wet to care,
I remain seated on the slab
Of concrete

By the containers.
Oil and filth creep into fresh
Cuts and scratches.
I ignore my hands itching,
Drink and exhale.

I could be a millionaire
Throwing cash at the shadows of
My emptiness, or a holy man
Preparing for Tukdam with
Nothing but his robes to

His name. Anything but this
In-between existence devided
Between too much work and
Not enough free time or sleep.
What am I doing here, should

Be the last words they'd watch
Me think. The concrete won't
Answer. The coffee won't comfort
My restlessness.
But the rain replies:

You're living.
"And what are you doing here?"  
I counter.

*Raining.

After everything I still believe in true love
I may be damaged but I remain strong, unbroken
Tepid winds have blown change into my life
Resurrected a winter heart, blossoming into spring
I miss the autumn though, the in between
When I was focusing so closely on the veins of leaves
Pieces of myself came into view that before were blurry
I know now that was being truly awake, alive, feeling it
Summer was but a dream then
Even further now due to my own coping choices
Drowning my sorrows was useless
Getting so high I could touch clouds did no good
I must feel it to heal it
Now I hurt, let it wash over and suffocate these little lungs
That used to hold the North Wind
Years later, the aftermath of near annihilation
I am sore, bruised, ravaged
Seams have changed
No longer just ragged edges
Somewhere between giving up and giving in
Hopeful (please)
Each morning I pull myself from the safety of sleep
Knowing that even there I am not completely out of reach
Nightmares bring you to me angry, lost or in pain
Bless me from time to time with smiles and warmth
Back from the dead or having never left
I wake up wet with tears of longing
Why did this all happen?
Could never be answered with a sentence or a word
It is what it is
This is what I live with
I have to feel it
To heal it

Bad news is always dreaded
Lump in my throat as I hear a voice I never thought I would get used to
The aftermath of losing a husband yet still dealing with his ex-wife
For the sake of three beautiful, full-of-hope faces that are left behind
The eldest is sunshine golden
Great at math, loves to laugh
My precious Kallie-bug
The second child, middle stuck
Kayla, she-who-creates
Is a writer, a drawer, a nurturer through and through
The youngest makes me see myself
Inquisitive, a loner but still so full of love she cannot help but shine
Sweet little Addison
Out of 3 gorgeous girls, 2 of you have been cursed
Your father's disease passed down exactly
We will have to watch you struggle, suffer, cry
I do not know what to say to you, to others
(tears in my eyes)
Besides "hope", we must be so full of it that we can feel/see nothing else
I watched your father slip through my grip
Once a towering presence of a man
Reduced to a slight few pounds drowning in hospital white
I am so thankful you had his love as a child, he was something else
Never would have wished this for you
DKC is not a disease we know well, only that it brings hell
Nor can we promise that what we can do will help
I pray with your mother to separate gods
Each of us knowing that it does not matter
Our tears mingle into one single river through hundreds of miles of cellphone tower  
I will always be here
I will fight until I can no more
My little loves

We've got it all, you know?
That sparkle swirl pull me down to the deep underground
Love like this doesn't just wash away with a heavy rain
It sinks deep into my wet wet earth and takes root in my veins
Heavy.
The emptiness I am left with when you pull away
Silences every known too-close to the speaker concert I have every been to
More than I could count
But only one of you
I have reduced passed feelings to that of the draw of drugs, of poison
One even was the flutter of angel wings
Broke down the walls, stormed and raged until I was it's willing partner
That love left me drowning in the darkest night of my life
It went on and on and on and on and on and on...still going
Even on the sunniest of days there is that shadow framing it's corners
You have become the sun though, replaced artificial I-am-ok's
With I-am-having-the-time-of-my-life (s)
Laughter comes easy, smiles too and all because of the sweetest of you
I want to sew you up close
Never let you go
Psychedelic children womp womping our fragile neurons through a summer that is heavy with the heat of our kisses
Your name curves around the bow of my lips and settles in the dip of my dimples
Just a whisper of what it starts with can get me going
Revving me up through the afternoon until my palm is flush with yours once more
I love you.
When the sun comes up.
When the lights go out.
When the flames rage.
When the waves die down.
I love you.

Dad spoke of his father today.
I listened with Friday
Beer breath and keen
Ears, as he said:

I hope to God your brother
And you won't remember
Me as a ****
Fool when I'm gone,

Then coughed that gurgle-rasp
That promises significant
Changes in a son's
Life within

Not too distant a
Future.
Those **** cigarettes.
Half a lung gone, surgery

Scar a part of that back
That I remember I thought
Would carry me
Forever.

We never spoke too emotionally.
He does it more and
More, and all I can do is
Prepare,

And to speak such truths as:
Dad. You've impressed our
Friends, charmed our women,
Driven us through snow storms

And late nights
To get us to -or home from- either.
Fed us, chopped wood through
Summers to keep us warm through

Winters.
Taught us languages and carpentry,
History and poetry,
Classical wrestling and chivalry.

You've made us laugh since
Before we knew how to.
I think of you whenever I smell
Sawdust, new guitar strings, and smoke

(Only minutes old, his cough
Was the first sound I reacted to...)
Your memory is safe.
Whenever your time comes

To leave us to the strength of our
Own arms and souls,
Trust that your rest is well earned.
He laughed a little,  

Eyes wet from coughing
And whatever.
I could die content tomorrow,  
Having told him.

Some giants don't fall.
They just lie down.
Not to wither away and die.
But to retire,

The way oak trees,
Mountains, revolutionary ideas
And gods
Retire.