To sum it all up,
I don't think anyone
has been able to
understand me as well as you did -
understand me enough to know
I needed help understanding myself.
So when you left,
you left me in this trance
where I didn't know whether
to walk back or run forward.
Instead, I lit myself on fire
thinking it would be easier
to learn from scratch
than to fix broken glass.
But either way,
I came up confused with ****** hands.

gd

As water is to cleansing rain
and heat as to burning flame,
so are you to me; the same.
My fiery rain.

Fill the gutter of my mind.
Fire the coal your heart has mined.
Burn me to the end of time.
Your fire does reign.

r ~ 4/1/14

Swords!
I believe I own one. It's small in size
but great in strength. And harm? That may be
the only thing it has granted me. As it grazes
against the backs of my teeth and cuts
at the necks of old lovers, I am not sure
whether I am grateful for this tool.
Wielding all this power, is it a blessing or a curse?
But what am I saying? What do I know?
All I've got is a tongue.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

"plan a" was to be cordial:
you said, "coexist."
we toasted with our cappuccinos,
"to coexisting," before replacing our masks.
smile. wave. be polite.
I suppose some dozen missteps by me rendered this plan
useless.

"plan b" is much harder.
put your hand on the table.
the knife comes down, quick,
press the hot metal to the wound.

amputate. cauterize.
use your friends as a tourniquet,
like the one I've been twisting you into for the last year
and a half.

I shook the devil’s hand and looked him dead in the eye the night I put the barrel of a shotgun in between my lips
While I stood on the edge of a chair with a noose around my neck.
Killing two birds with one stone.
The feathers of the bird deep inside me would be ruffled after the bullet raced through them,
Shearing them apart like a combine moves through a field of corn.
The bird on the outside of my body would finally learn to fly after the bullet struck the inside of my mouth like a flashlight lights up a dark cave harboring a family of bats
And right before I fell limp to the floor, no longer able to hear my own heartbeat inside my ears,
The noose caught my fall, tightening around my neck.
The night I stood on a wooden chair, holding my own death within my hands in complete darkness around eleven because I wanted to be an owl instead of a raven,
The chirping inside of me wouldn’t quiet.
I heard the voices of wings outside the window in the tree I’d thought about soaring from; telling me to stop or cheering me on, I don’t know.
But if I would’ve put the single round inside the chamber of the gun or slipped the slightest bit from the chair,
I’d know how it feels to fly.

Burning and popping still Lingers in my minds eye, I look down to see a crinkle in time. I walk through seeing flashes if gleaming memories. Smoky gray glass silently floating, wondering, but forever still. Blue twisting and spinning through all thoughts, like everlasting bruises of the sea. Gut retching anticipation of silent questions always answered, paused and stilled. Never again to be caressed by the silent husky laughter of memories past. Light begins to reappear through the memories of black and white photographs. Loneliness suffocates me as if all those years ago with water filling my veins.  

I had been so lost, so alone. I was drowning in it. The effort it took to smile like I cared was so minimal. I scared myself with how much I didn't care. Voices running ramped through my mind. I was falling farther and farther into oblivion. Two hands reached out to scoop up the remains of me.

Silent and still I say there till I crumpled as if to be thrown away. Birthday wishes never come true if no one if wishing for you. Tears held in, hair pulled on with dead inside hands like a toddler in the night. Until a shy smile came into sight. Timid and warm but is there more?

Time pasted, wounds began to heal. Words became fewer till non were spoken at all. Pain searing. Water calling. The sinking feeling was all I was missing. Sights and sound faded till all was blank. Pain all I felt, love betrayed. Torn and beaten till nothing remains. No smiles, no silent laughter, no words to ever to be spoken.

The water beckons.

The feeling of water flowing around me, never stopping. Hands that once has held me up now push me under. Circulating, pushing out pain. Searing life on the brink is all that's left. Black oblivion rushes in like the mistress of the sea's tide. Warm salty water flows as if from a broken facet. Till it all stopped.