She sits on the bed and reads me
Old poetry
About ******, sadness, and loss
All synonyms
For the same affliction really
Dysfunction and despair
Captured in yellowed archival snapshots
Of a girl
With a penchant for surviving pain

Mortality leaps
From the prose as she reviews her life
In hellish imagery
A transmutation of spirit occurs
Within her
As she drifts through the years
On each page
Melancholy awareness for us both realizing
That it's all real

No one can take away the scars that
Every word cuts
No one can deny the inviolable fortitude
Required to document
The war embedded and entrenched on the front lines
Just old poetry
To me they resonate like a distant bell
Her sudden silence
Whispers that the dead still scream her name

You're a walking flesh antenna
And your input is a switch
Not open to interpretation
On or off, what you feel is what you define
Reacting before you analyze
Because when you think
You don't know if you're sad or if you feel fine

Were those false signals that left you dining alone tonight?
Or was every bite just another piece of observational delight
Numb in your insight
What your gut has to say is never right

Being is the best path for your mind
Essence in battle with existence
What new part of you you may find
Nooa min anooa, you're one of many kinds
Walking flesh antenna
Is there an output signal lost somewhere inside that magnetic field?

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.