XXVIII

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,—he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it!—this, . . . the paper’s light . . .
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God’s future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine—and so its ink has paled
With Iying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!

Cravings come slowly
even when you say
no, never again.

Feelings slowly rise
with tightness creeping
into my chest.

Brain is racing now
fighting the urge
to taste the rush once more.

Avoiding friends
from the past
that can fill your need.

Running to avoid
the sweet taste
as the drip becomes a flow.

Feeling the draw
of the warmth of
being in my mothers arms.

Nodding now
as the fluid
streams into my veins.

Escape will be
mine now
as the pain and world fade away.

Happiness is now complete within the darkness.

I have an old guitar named Gypsy Queen.  Normally this would not be much of a momentous occasion, lots of people name their guitars,but Gypsy is hand made by me.  Many moons ago when my ex wife was pregnant with my only child, a daughter, I took an adult education night class while I was attending college as a day job.  Our instructor had recently taken a trip to Canada to buy wood as he made his living building custom guitars and he had some of the most beautiful birds eye maple I'd ever seen and also some very good spruce for the top of the guitar.  We met at the local high-school's woodshop classroom.  I knew all the power tools there having taken wood shop twice in middle school and again in high-school.  From raw lumber I fashioned her pieces, sides, three piece back, neck, keyboard (made from some exotic ebony my instructor had), and top.  While my wife was patiently waddling about the house I shaped and sanded those pieces on our living room floor.  The interior struts, the binding, and frets for the keyboard had to be created as well.  When I finally got her glued and assembled she was quite a sight, almost perfect in every way, and the quality wood she was made from was so beautiful I had never seen the likes of her before.  Most of the people in the class didn't get that far not having the skills with the tools or the coordination necessary to succeed.  Still she needed to be lacquered and finished.  All told, special tools and accouterments, cost of the wood, glue and sandpaper, plus the frets (nickeled silver), and the grover tuning pegs she cost me about $160.  But almost 500hrs labor went into her creation, whole free weekends spent sanding and shaping.  It was a year or more before I finally got her lacquered and she was so beautiful I could scarce believe I had made her, totally from scratch.  I had even inlaid her mother of pearl keyboard art, god she was a sight.  Both she, and my daughter, are now close to 40 years old, and she still plays like a champ.  Ask any guitarist about guitars they use a lot, see how many survive that long.  She's my prized possession to this day.  Her custom bridge is shaped like a bird (something I've never seen to this day anywhere else) and I'd put her sound up against any expensive Martin made.  Plus she is so much prettier.  She's old and her finish is crackled some but her neck is still true and her action is superb.  Through the years she has brought me so much joy, I'm so glad I took that class.  I hope she survives till I die cause I want to mix her ashes with mine before they get spread around by my friends.  I'll want something to play in the afterlife.

I thought I could put you in a box
I was wrong
I thought I could work you out like math
I was wrong

I thought this was what you'd say
You said something else
I thought you were one way
You were another

But it was the same about me

I tried to put myself in a box
I tried to work myself out like math
But I'm more than that,
And I can't figure it out

I thought I was supposed to say this
But I should have said something else
I thought I was one way
But I was another

I tell myself that I don't know you
But I don't know me

And that is much worse.

I woke up again today.
I didn't want to.
You know why, but I'll remind you.
Remember when we snuck out at two?
You were hungry and I just wanted to see you.
You were hard to get but I got you.
I snuck out every night since then.
Climbed through your window and into your bed.
We just laid there and held hands just like you said.
Told me on the phone two months earlier,
"I just want to lay with someone and hold their hand,
Study their palms with touch just like my little brother read".
You were lovely really.
I was always nervous around you but I loved when you called me silly.
It feels like just yesterday I handed you your favorite flower.
We were in the park and we didn't talk but honestly that was my favorite hour.
And soon you became my favorite flower.
We blossomed into something more,
Something love couldn't even devour.
I had the whole world in my hands because I held you.
It was beautiful.
Two years later and I still smiled when I saw you.
We were meant for each other because I know you felt the same when you saw me too.
I'm sorry I keep having to remind you,
But every morning I have to.
Because you're not here anymore,
And i miss you.
I don't know what I did to deserve this but I'm asking for forgiveness.
I'm sorry for every wrong I did,
I repent to every sin.

And I'm scared to fix our bed because I feel like you might still come back in.

And I hate how I might wake up again.

It terrifies me,
truly, utterly, completely
terrifies me.

To know that
someday, I'm going to die
and not be able to save all those people
who I've never met but desperately planned to save.
There will be sunsets that I never see,
light that never touches my skin,
grass I will never walk on.

I'm a drop in the ocean,
a grain of sand,
a pebble.
I wanted to make waves,
but I cannot even manage a ripple

It scares me that I am going to die,
and the world will forget me,
more than it already has.