I trace my fingers
Through the cigarette smoke
That dances from your lips and
Creates a veil in the sunlight -
A moment of quiet, magical bliss
From your silent self destruction
Should have been indication
Of what was to come.

I can’t string together the right words to describe the feeling of black tar sands filling my lungs,
Or chinks of ice inching their way through my veins-
Maybe they’re somewhere in the relief I find Between the place my tires last touched the gravel
And where they meet the sky.

There’s something about being okay with death that’s totally not okay
But there’s something about it that makes me want to roll out the welcome mat,
Arms open where I’ve been waiting for you-
In the home that’s no longer ours,
Left in your flames I couldn’t quench.

someday it will
come again.
someday someone
will come in.

a star
with the deepest depths in the eyes
with the gentlest of breaths
and endless soul in the smile

one day
i'll forgive this pain
not forget -
forgive.

Irony is painting a sun
While a rainstorm erupts in your mind
With drops searing the page.

Irony is bleeding knuckles
On hands held in prayer
Pleading for peaceful end
To the war with only one soldier.

Irony is lying in front of the moving mountain
To save the soul of the cries that shook it.

Irony is having to hurt
In order to heal.

Paint me as a monster
With the **** of your cigarette-
But when the ash disperses
And the smoke has cleared,
Accept your truth and know
Like ash and smoke
You let me go