its been
moments since I thought about you
in any capacity
minutes since
I remembered some portion of our story
hours since I felt anger
days since I tried to pick up my phone
weeks since I last contacted you
months since we last touched.

its been

months since you crushed me
weeks since I put on the brave face
days since I longed for you
hours since I spoke of you
minutes of starring into a blank screen
silently pleading
moments before all this is behind me again.

It’ll be

Moments of weakness
when I think about “us”
Minutes of silent cursing
while you run through my mind
Hours of rationalizing
before I let it go
Days of depression

I know

Weeks of emotions crammed into a few minutes
Months of self doubt and insanity

Soon it’ll be

years

But I’ll always have


the



tears.

Acoustic variables numb my skin as I
attempt to drown my thoughts of
guilt- from having to hurt you to
make me better.

I'm just trying to
get better.

an ethereal presence
felt long before ever being heard
energy flowing through space and time
resonant frequencies with dynamic effect

inducing within romantic chambers
a rhapsodic ocean of dance and song
a mountainous symphony of possibility
a delicate and gentle concerto of dreams

musical princess of harmonic evolution
melodic instrument for conscious healing
emanating perfect pitch whether sharp or flat
an athenaeum of inspiration and maternal lyricism

...oh, to remain in concert...

Faking structure through the years,
Answers lost in amber beers.
Waking up to each new day,
Hoping I will float away,
High above the reach of man,
His damning, racist, hateful clan.
To a place of deepest night,
Safe from bigots "cleansing light."
Darkness thick as velvet rope
Holds together all my hopes,
And dreams and fears and all desires,
Under stars and nightly fires.
Break away from everyone,
Claim the night, blot out the sun.
When one day the long sleep falls,
I'll journey down those crimson halls,
To crypts of love and memories lost,
Without a care about the cost.

When the knife is in your
hands, I won't blame you.
When it kisses my throat
as you used to,
I won't blame you.
You with the kind brown eyes,
You with the silk strung hair,
You with the soft smile and
the burning fire in your chest,
I won't blame you.
Instead I will remember;
the touch that faded, but never
truly stopped burning.
The nights that ended, but never
truly left us.
The love that was extinguished, but never
truly burnt away.
There are embers even now,
smoldering in your hand around my neck,
I feel it. But the thin line between love and hate
is one I pushed you across long ago, and that
passion burns anger in your eyes, where once was love.
You gave me everything you had,
and I gave you not enough,
so when that blade comes to take
the rest,
I won't blame you.

You are
every fallen piece of skin
and strand of hair you
left behind, along with
the perfume that
I can't seem to wash
from my pillow.

I spilled your love into my
sink and tried to wash it with
formaldehyde,
I bartered your words away to
the 90% of the grey matter
I don't use,
I taught myself to pretend
every emotion in your eyes
were just a mirror of mine-
but, despite all of this,
I can never coax my
memories to reject you.

This body was never your temple.
It was never your kingdom.
It was your carpet,
which you burned with each
steely gaze and flaming word,
and which you trampled upon after
every storm.

You were every broken stone I
painted bone-white
after you hurled them into the heavens
only to watch them fall
again-
onto me.

Carving your name into my ribs,
you taught me to
sigh you into existence
each post-mortem night,
and I haven't found a room yet
where I can breathe without
inhaling you in
again.