Look at you, Blue Oleander
at the margins
of a birthday wish—

at seventeen, you were
the night’s favorite
sparkler,

and at twenty-seven,
the morning’s
favorite petal to kiss.

I owe you an explanation
I know you can’t fathom why,
If I’m here and so are you,
I won’t be yours and you won’t be mine

Here’s the thing:
I am but only one of me
Powerless against the hive
I can choose you but will they?
I don’t sit alone, I’m a table for five

The months I’ve been chasing
have passed.
I am left with a year of clarity,
September’s Spring, the tale of another promising Summer,
I’ll spend chasing the bits I have lost
Among the bits of August
Unkissed, unseen by the sun

And along comes a new year,
To all our great infortunes,
It is never lost, never late
To insistently sweep me off course,
And deliver me to my fate.

Oh, there comes my new lover,
In their ever-changing image.
To break my bruised fall into
Another loveless winter.

Clear to me a certain hour of the day
For a few seconds, at best,

The truth:

I’ve been locking drawers and
Sweeping pages under the rugs

Severing ties with July’s warmth
Tying a string across these months

I’ve been coping by fading into myself,
Shedding my skin by burning it off.

I have the pain but it isn’t felt,
And I know it isn’t right, but is it enough?

I’m stuck beneath the surface,
Pounding at the ceiling of a frozen lake

It is August and I thaw,
But still I don’t cry, I just ache

Benevolence’s dry, therefore,
I look for your acts of violence.

Easier to face it had you carried a sword,
Not just a shield and your armour.

Truce became the deadliest of weapons.  

Turns out there is no blade sharper
than the white flag of a martyr.

Away you keep me
As if I’m in the way
Hiding in your skin
Poking at your veins
You sold me the sun
For a kiss and a loan
But I ain’t got a dime
So I live on my own
Where I’m bound to sleep
In a cellar you lost
With the ghosts of your past
Just a name and a box