I miss her, and
it's uncomfortable.
I'm not used to
feelings.
In the past, I would
drink when I
felt uncomfortable,
or felt anything, for
that matter.
Now, I identify
the feelings, like
a strange new
species of animal:
"Oh yes, that's sadness.
It's indigenous to
the western plains of
the heart."
Feeling emotions is
strange and scary,
but it beats the
alternative;
feeling nothing,
and dying alone.

You carried my heavy heart
Until I forgot it was mine
I sobbed like a child
I bared my soul
I was clean and weightless:
And then you gave it back.
And in that moment
I knew I would rather
Not have it at all
Than have anyone but you carry it
I still love you
I still hate you

I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.

Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.

Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.

the dawn and you get together
like the sea and the mist
just like rain and lightning
like the wind and the children's kites
Yeah
the dawn and you come together in my bed
when I look at you sweetly asleep beside me
and I become the guardian of your dreams

You can lean your head

full of tears upon me, then --


it becomes lighter.