From where my body understands
that youth has told me goodbye.
A few steps more......
and I am starting to think
my life still contains
little pieces of a beginning
that will never die.

Betrayal, fills in the blanks
when I try to hold back
from singing the melody.....
of my heart.
When I'm looking for that someone
who is able to run
through my forest
written in.........
as my other part.

In all this waiting for love,
my youth.......has become
a memory.....
protected..........by no sword or shield.
I cannot find favor on any day
that I spend counting leaves on trees....
that stand........
in quietly, fading fields.

I can no longer stand in secret
knowing my youth
lies on its back, pleading.......
to be young, once again.
While I breathe in the footsteps........
of a long lost smile......
weaved around a love
I keep waiting..........
to begin.

there is no magic here, only waiting,
six foot, soft haired children, with shoulders broad and lips
inflated, pining for the snow to shrivel and disappear like some giant
white-bodied beast, suffocated by the sky
waiting to fling off in all directions, sparks spiraling up from the mother flame
the ferocious dancers, lunging towards the moon
waiting for love to overwhelm, to swallow
taking their hands and hair and eyes into its warm, gaping mouth and embrace
them like a womb
for the beginning of wisdom
for the end of all things cold
gripping one anothers hands
a row of three paper people, snipped into shape
by the holy hands of circumstance

or if you want to call it god...

waiting to be lifted onto the shoulders
of some great wind and carried to the sea
weightless
and
dancing

I haven’t been in this world very long
Not much makes sense to me
Priests thieving from the hungry to get closer to god
Building temples in honor when others require shelter
My opinion is never heard, my voice too mellow
On two knees, I beg God for a voice like his
He presents me with pen
They will hear me
Through ink

I truly thought
I had found myself
in a wondrous place
where you could truly see me,
and that all my words
were forever immortalized.
Held close.......
inside of your everything,
soft......as a breeze.

I laughed as you stared
into my eyes, asking my name.
With my heart in your hands
and the moonlight
at your beck and call.
Then......watching you walk away,
I smiled.......
even though I realized
you never knew me
at all.

He tore himself apart for breakfast until he resembled the seasons that were running down the unimportant streets of silence.  
Hoping for an endless meal because he was afraid he had seen this all before and was simply famished.

A creature observed the return of a shower of attention and suddenly found itself hiding in the back of his kitchen, while silence took the risk of creating fireworks in both their minds.

Ice-water peered cautiously over the rim of his glass as it gathered as if waiting for back up, with an agitation that was all too familiar it called out in a voice that toppled over the realization that it was permanently trapped.

A tangle of small wonder that called itself understanding did not trust the voices of time as they had become wildly deformed and held onto the same chill as the glass that stared back with no apology.  

The next instant brought a sudden end that urgently painted torrents of strange confusion into everything else. Yet when he asked what had happened the creature played hell for a couple of minutes as it staggered backwards into two seconds ago.

He swung around looking in the back of his kitchen for advice, deeply troubled as ice-water seemed to form in his veins.  He existed by nourishing himself with his own feelings and yet was still hungry.  The creature knew as it watched him advance to the back of his kitchen that the man’s hunger had not been appeased.  

The creature cringed with the same fear as the ice-water peering over the rim of his glass knowing it was trapped.  It watched as he advanced to take his next bite with eyes as cold as the glass where the ice-water was trapped.

Nourishment was at hand within the feelings of the creature……as he closed in I realized the creature in the back of his kitchen, was me.

© 2011 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

Holiness on the head,
Light and perfections on the breast,
      Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To lead them unto life and rest:
           Thus are true Aarons drest.

           Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
      A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest:
           Poor priest, thus am I drest.

           Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
      Another music, making live, not dead,
Without whom I could have no rest:
           In him I am well drest.

           Christ is my only head,
My alone-only heart and breast,
      My only music, striking me ev’n dead,
That to the old man I may rest,
           And be in him new-drest.

           So, holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
      My doctrine tun’d by Christ (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest),
           Come people; Aaron’s drest.

The smell of your cigarette still lingers;
Note to self: Open the window...

The things you wrote to me;
Note to self: Delete...

The blame you cast upon me;
Note to self: ******* let it go...

I don't care anymore... this heart is closed.
Note to self: No Vacancy...

---------------------------------------
"Closed for the winter season.

Will re-open in Spring."
---------------------------------------

"Hello, hello...is this Hotel Heart?
Could I talk to the proprietress,
Lily Mae?

I'd like to make a reservation for 2 weeks in April;
a double room with hot shower, double bed,
and personal room service.

Any vacancies for that time?"

"Hello...you've reached Hotel Heart.
We're currently closed,
but will be re-opened in the early Spring;

please leave me your contact information,
and I'll get back with you
as soon as the reconstruction is finished.

Thank you for calling
and have a great day."

You’ve slapped me emotionally
Beaten me to a pulp; twisted
Your words until I dropped
From exhaustion; degraded.
You may as well have taken a knife
And ripped my heart out, left
It bleeding … You spoke
Of reconciliation, begged
For forgiveness, but I know
It was all about karmic revenge.

A year ago I left you for her
Loved and lived freely
For six whole months,
But you couldn’t even last
A month with the wild child
You chose to take to our bed.
You claim you feared her…
With her black arts, she cursed you,
Left so much negative energy
Surrounding you… will you
Ever recover? Will we?