Death is a funny thing.
I pictured him large, intimidating,
With a barbed wire tattoo encircling a large bicep.
I expected to find him lurking in the dark,
With the face of a monster.

Instead he showed up in the daylight, unassuming,
Wearing a bow-tie and a shiny smile.
I only later noticed that under his trench coat,
He hid his secret weapon of cell mutation.

He politely knocked on your door and insisted
To come in and sit down for tea.
Sensing your apprehension, he engaged in silly negotiation
To disguise his true determination.

In the end, he gently took your hand
And slowly pulled you away from me.
He got off on the agony that manifested itself
Within my heart and on my face.
His pleasure increased with each inch he dragged you,
Only reaching ecstasy with the final yank,
When I was sure that my children would never know
Your kindness as I had.

Hope is cruel liberation from a secure foundation in reality.
I hope.
On the inhale, desire fills my lungs with fairy dust.
On its release, longing shocks me like an intoxicating form of torture.
I hope.
The first time you called me an "*******" we shared a glance
that sent a lightning bolt down my spine.
I hope.
When you plopped down beside me, your tattoo peeked at me from beneath your sleeve.
It read like an invitation addressed only to me.
I had never seen anything more beautiful.
I hope.
When our minds danced, I realized what I had been missing.
The taste of your raspberry lips lingers on mine.
I hope.
Maybe love cannot conquer all, but you have conquered me.
I surrender to my hope.
I hope for "us."

An inflated balloon is vulnerable but that is the only way it can fly,
I shall no longer feel the fear of the sun, when I close my eyes as the power,
Of a mere wink is enough to eclipse its strong beam from afar,
We are all just trying to find some form of escape so we look for loopholes,
For our minds to run, or to just stroll for a bit,

Stay flowing like the blood in our veins,
Even the water from a cup remains shapeless in times of restraint,
A statue of a bird is made of stone which may make it stronger,
But we are made of something stronger, since the ability of flexibility,
Gives us the power to emit change, which is far bolder,

Wouldn’t it be grand to climb out of that well of fear?
And turn those wishes, into a reality of something celebratory to the ear?
The key to opening the shackles of our mind may depend,
On how far we are willing to go,
It is only when reaching out to somewhere in the unknown,
Do we find that true freedom, is being at peace to escape,

Even if the parts are separated and alone.