He dropped his bombs
and where your shores exploded,
lie memories of my own split rock.
I have healed, my flow returned to normal
as the sea smoothed his sins
and cleared his scent from my home.
I have drowned and been revived
and drowned again before I could see
the sun above the water but believe me, when I say it was a hard road,
I **** near had my feet cut off
before I finally learned which way was up and when I saw it -
God was it beautiful as I broke through
and took that first breath of air
free and clear of his aid.
I could breathe without him
and darling,
when you realize you
can breathe without him too,
you'll be amazed how far you can swim.

Anchor me.
Don't hold me down
but keep me on the ground
when my head is stuck in places
higher than the clouds.
Anchor me.
Don't hold me back,
instead keep me steady,
straight on my path.
Anchor me,
but don't let me sink.
Keep me afloat
in one place,
here, where I'm safe
in your arms.

The sun begins to shine
again upon the world,
and I'm still here.
I'm still seeing,
still breathing,
still feeling you next to me.
I closed my eyes to
the darkness
last night fearing
that it would be
the last time I'd see you.
It all seems
just too good
to be true,
too perfect
to be real,
all too right
to be mine.
But you're still here,
sighing,
sleeping
sound beside me.
Your heart is still beating
steady from within your chest
beneath my head,
and I know you're still mine
for at least this moment.
How I wish I could freeze time
and stay here
in your arms forever.

A leap, a
second,
a deep breath.
Splash.
The Earth swallows me
wrapping me in splendor -
and for a moment I forget.
Relief and satisfaction
envelops me.
However long
I may, I will allow my body
to glide just beneath the surface,
like silk against itself
or upon a newly shaven leg,
until the last air escapes me.
When I return
and I submerge only my ears,
the sounds of my breathing
remind me
that I can
still
feel,
and there is time.
But for now,
I'll just breathe.

Your wind uprooted all I have known as typical of boys
and planted the seeds of men
to show me that to love is to have true strength.

My shingles were weathered, claimed to be made
to withstand someone like you,
but at the first sight of you I ripped the nails out myself.

Those familiar grumbles
come from somewhere
in a dark corner or my mind.
They come sneaking around
without more of a warning
than a soft cackle.
The laughter
grinds my bones
as if I'm searching
for gears in the car.
The creatures
have been hunting me,
taunting me,
haunting me for years.
They come for me at night,
when I'm most alone.
They know
I cannot be saved then,
they'll have their way with me,
chewing on me,
never to swallow me whole
but just enough
to leave me sore
with the rise of the sun.
I've grown to expect them,
embrace their presence,
because unlike those
who are with me
in the daytime,
the demons
will always be here.

The walls around me
tower over me even
in such a short room.
Unfriendly reminders of
ugly mistakes
and the chain
and shackles of my past.
What is it like
to know
I have taken a step backward,
fall forward,
headlong,
but still somehow I've
managed to fall on my *** -
stuck in neutral
in this guarded dungeon?
My walls are worn
and corroded,
from neglect, and now
I have allowed them to crumble.
And here I kneel,
weak and alone,
crying out for that one thing
everyone wants from an empty home,
but the echoes are
my only friends.

Even in the darkness
I can feel those eyes upon me.
I can close my eyes tight
and cover my ears,
but I can still picture their menacing glare,
and I can still hear those words
loud
and clear.
Don't shout your compliments
and jam them down my throat
because without my own consent
they mean nothing.
They tell me to learn
to take a nice gesture
but the truth is
it's the compliments that hurt the most.
When I close my eyes,
I can still see your mouths moving,
and I feel your words
rocking my world,
slowly sinking my ship.
I've tried to keep my sea legs
steady
for so long now,
but I can feel the uneasy,
sick,
queasy feelings
rolling back into my brain,
and I have to fight hard to stay on my feet.
You shout your words
like I should be thankful
to hear them.
The words only bring fear
that this perfection you see
could slip away,
and then I would be left
with the memory
of who I used to be.
The saddest thing is,
when I close my eyes,
I can't stop hearing their words,
and I can't stop feeling
like I should be ashamed
of what I've let myself become.
But the eyes,
the ones I see
even when I close my own,
are just that;
The eyes that peer down
upon me,
evilly glaring,
constantly staring,
picking me apart,
are those that rest
just above my own nose.

The sadness in your eyes
brought back memories
when I looked at you today,
memories that took me back
to what seems like a lifetime ago.
I saw the emptiness,
the void that now exists
where the irises of your eyes
used to flash color and life.
The light in your smile still lingers,
I can see its memory in the corners of your frown.
The color of your skin
betrays your nod
when asked if you're feeling better.
Your pale, frail little body
looked like a knot, all curled up
in that way on your hospital bed,
and as much as I hated myself for it
I silently cast pity on you.
Your attempt at conversation
was drown out of my ears
by the ringing of a thousand pills
hitting the bathroom counter,
what a beautiful tragedy your parents must have found,
their baby girl
splayed out on the floor like a heap of laundry
needing to be washed.
And you were,
washed that is,
they pumped your stomach the moment you arrived.
All those chemicals filling you
so you'd never be hungry again.
I noticed your scars,
and your freshly made art
hastily carved into your bark
so you wouldn't forget your intentions.
I can feel the thickness
of the air
weighing on you,
and I wish I had something to say
to help lift the burden,
so I simply leave you with
“things will get better,”
but you won't know that
until they do,
because I didn't know it
until now.