I like my days melancholy.
But beautifully so.
When the sky is grey,
with the few solitary raindrops.
I stand at the sink, in the fading sunlight,
washing my two navy dresses.
A soft old jazz piece plays on the radio,
I turn the fabric over in my hands.
Scrubbing between buttons and seams,
washing the remnants of church services,
a job interview, presentations
down the rusting drain.
I dunk a lace collar into the water
it comes up dark, black, heavy
as though someone has dipped it in tar.
It's delicacy is gone,
but it's spaces seemingly filled.
I stretch it across my palm,
black against alabaster.
The emptiness is here, today,
as it is in all days,
but for a few moments,
it feels filled.

my smiles to you means i like you
my laughter to you means i need you.
my jokes to you means i will accept you
my conversations with you, means you might have a chance with me.
i will stop running away if you do.
i will take step closer if you do
i will talk to you if you do.

A hand springs forth
from the dredges of the pit.
A hand failing to knowledge its worth
with a will to deny it.
The blinding light of things to come
bright in its possibility
Chemical baths render sludge undone
clearing the way for eyes to see.
The weight of the land has tipped the scales
orbiting in its gravity
Quickening the mind that hails
and objects the dark's depravity.
Realize the void is important
yet small in its relevance
A calmness to lay dormant
for freedom is the recompense.  
The stranglehold on the soul
will be released only when
you forgive yourself
for not being able to fill the hole.