When I was younger and self-harmed
I often found myself becoming disappointed
that my scars were fading
I didn't want to see the most
interesting thing about me disappear....

fifty-nine years
  a month and two days
     seven hours
          and twenty-nine
              seconds
it
took

Here I am world.

I don't care anymore
              what you think.

She kept me sane in all the madness

Thank you for pulling me out of my silence
Into the world of other people for a moment.
It reminded me that my existence needs context
And that people can be something other than
Annoying background noise to my obsessions.

Thank You for ignoring the awkward silence,
And pretending that “uh, yeah”
Is an acceptable answer to any question.
Usually my obvious lack of eye contact
Would discourage the casual conversationalist,
But you took it as a challenge.
And it’s exactly what I needed.

Most of all,
Thank you for taking the time
To be kind to me,
A lonely misfit,
In an indifferent world.
And though it is not worth much,
You have my eternal gratitude.

"I do love you, you know, love
It's just too late
to do anything about it now."

Heartfelt words spoken
at the end of a day
that'd seen six heart attacks
come and go

Across the hours
your silence spoke volumes
marching time as it did through your pain

Eyes closed to the world
until those last words
spoken with such passion
as I steeled myself to leave

You grasped my hand
held it tight to your chest
your gaze like a cloak encircling me

Gravity carried my tears
anguish spotting the floor
yours a lifetime of sorrows
staining the pillow

How I walked away
I will never know
my heart breaking with each step

Death was expected
the very next day
already it was knocking
but you didn't open the door

Not for another
forty-four days
finally leaving wrapped in my embrace

Ready you were
after our time together
your room in the hospice
our port in the storm

We laughed and we cried
we talked and forgave
we journeyed far and deep

You had said it was too late
to show me your love
but truly it wasn't
you know, Pa

You did an excellent job
at the end of the day
and in your own way
my  life through

I may have nothing material
to remind me of you
but my memories will never fade

What happened to the girl I once loved?
I believe she shriveled up inside,
and was left alone to die.

I reached out to grab her,
but she fell.

I hate to think that is what happened,
to such a precious girl.
High hopes, big dreams,
swallowed by the stream.

I like to think she is still alive,
and not just in my dreams.
That precious flower,
a savior, a saint,
is still alive to me.

But will I ever see her again,
or feel her soft, soothing touch?

No.
I will not.

He doesn't have a lot of money
But he's got just enough time on his hands
And his hands
Are soft and skilled and soothing
When they brush across the apples of my cheeks

Wherever I am with you, that's what I'll call home
And I know my walls are tall but they're old
And they're crumbling
Pack another bowl in my piece. Spend a little more time with me please... Don't go.

Can I sink into your spirit
Can I soar inside the place where you feel safe
I'm tired of being sick of the cold, Hold me Closer.
Just like that, as if you always have.

on edges of swing set of summer of child
I grow -- a rust abloom while ghosts
of women once called "mother" do push
a wind a creak a falling leaf feathering
downward, candied sentiment traveling
forward

for hope for empty swing to fill to turn
the chronometer back to *12 noon, March 6, 1972