You never did say

Those words
Your eyes implied.
I heard them
In my head, all lies.

The last time we spoke,
I was bundled in the coat
Of my doubts, my feet cold
As they hung off the edge
Of my bed.

I complained
About the lack of warmth,
But I shook off the blanket
You tried to drape over my
Shoulders.

I stood up,
Bare feet on frozen wood, not
Knowing where I was going,

Only that I needed to be
Away from you.

My thoughts
Led me to the mesh door,
Out into the snow.

But my
Paranoid eyes only saw
White, stretching for miles,
Wishing you would appear
Among the blank hills.

That was when I realised
I only wanted to be away
From  m y s e l f.

The numbness
Of the cold was supposed
To distance my body from
My hatred of myself—

But now my limbs
Are turning blue and purple,
Freezing to the spot, and the
Redness inside only
G r o w s.

I am
Unable to walk away from
It, hide in constant activity
Like I always have.

And I don’t
Blame you for finally giving
Up on trying to find me.

It was not serendipitious—
They were only sounds
Wailed from the opening
Of an old, untuned guitar--
But her eyes still pinched
Shut, hearing the screams
Of a voice no longer here.

It’s my birthday today.
The celebration of my life—
But I only feel the weight
Of all I have yet to turn
It into.
Merely a bag of yarn and
Crafts supplies I swear
I will get back to, but I
Only layer ***** sweaters
Ontop, lying to myself.
The socks
Grow more and more
Mismatched, my eyes
Bleary as I feed my needle
Through the stitches I
Can't see anymore.
Another
Finger counted off on my
Hand, but they start to
Shake more with each one,
The years blurring together.
Did I drop
The thread eons ago? Will I
Have to unravel everything
I thought I was building,
Hoping it was the purpose
Of my life?

The reminders

             Slunk away

When I was no longer

         S  t ruggling--
  
For I did not

              Understand

How they could not

         R  e form

Like I did--

His mouth was a perfect ‘O’
Like the opening of a guitar,
But out of tune, dumbstruck.
There was nothing he could
Say, no words that his face
Hadn’t already expressed.
Where had he been all this
Time? To not notice the lies
Furnishing his own mouth?

The timetable was slanted,
Askew in the dusty light.
No one had checked in,
Nor out, in years.
What was that sound,
That beating of the walls?
I stood in my empty heart.

We think of fainting spells
And red outbursts when
We hear the word
‘Overreact.’
But often, it is more
Accurate to think of the
Silence of a cold shoulder.

He said my touch was soft,

         Gentle, the hands of a babydoll.

But he didn’t know how much

         They shook. How come that

Didn’t leave a mark, didn’t

          Mar the skin with callauses?

They wrung themselves dry,

           Holding my head, pressed under

My legs--all to stop the constant

           Murmur of jangling keys that

Coursed through them.

They say our brains
Mature over the years.
But what if they only
Destroy themselves before
they can be fully formed?

I am drying paint.

I sit back and watch

Myself grow less glossy,

More dull and emotionless.

The metal protested
As you twisted the bulb
Into place.

It screamed, not wanting
To light up, preferring
Darkness.

Without it, we could not see,
But that did not change its
Preference.

Despondency resided in
The shadows of a high
Ceiling.

It needed your stubborn,
Caring hands to change its
Perspective.

My ankles were sore
From standing on my
Tiptoes,
Trying to ascertain
The words in your eyes.
There were none
For me;
You were guarded,
Your gaze obstinate as
You looked straight
Ahead,
Never wavering or
Crouching down to let
Me see into your
Head.

The gramophone shuddered
As unfamiliar voices swirled
Through its wallowing pipe,
Wondering when it grew so
Croaky, so old, so unlike itself.

I sat too long.
And now,
My life has pins
And needles.

The leather belt trailed
Behind him as he walked.
It dragged on the floor, as if
Weary from a long day’s work.
Was it tired of hearing kid’s
Scream? did it wince with
Every hit, wishing it
Didn’t cause them?

Can I hold on to this laugh
A little longer?
Can I cover it with my body,
Like a child under raining
Debris, ensuring
It survives?
They are so far & between,
How can I remember this
When my frown
Grows deep?
Let me shield this golden
Laugh, preserving it,
Even after its utterer  
Is long gone.

The hourglass is waning,
I say to myself, staring at
It all day long, waiting for

It to run out, to prove me
Right. But why didn’t I use
That time? Why did I just
Stand there, watching it,
And myself, waste away?

My fingers have started to prune
And my eyes have begun to dull.
I look at the ***** bath water
And wonder if I’m getting old,
Or if I have only sat in stagnant
Water for too long, waiting for
It to clear, waiting for the power
To go out despite knowing that
All this time, I had the choice
To stand up and drain the tub.

Smudged peace-signs
On corrogated metal.
Chalk that frowned,
Not understanding its
Purpose or the message
People had assigned it.
In this time, it was not
Seen as sign of peace,
But only the failure, the
Death, met by those who
Thought they held the
Solution to the fall of
Man. But they didn’t
Grasp that peace was
Unattainable, and only
Mercy and salvation
Could offer what they
Sought so steadfastly.