Feel the fire down your neck
Your heart beating like a drum
Flashes of red as they fade to gray
                -the ashes sift away.

Don’t ask for comfort, here you get none
They’ll watch as the flames work through your body
Thundering your pounding lungs
               -desperate to get away.

The heat grows high; where do you go from here?
Encased in flames; you have no chance
No chance to feel the love
               -no chance to get away.

It’s ending so soon, you let you all go
Your soul to be picked over; because you don’t really care
You’ve fallen to low, to see yourself now
               -pick your feet up; fly away

And now it’s all over, as they watch you; laid bare
A pretty red dress, stained with your blood
Your body so broken, so fragile; unmarred
               -locked up tight you can’t get away

They’ll take you away, ashamed of the sight
You think of the sight that kept you alive
As you make your escape; your heart beating like a drum
               -as you run in the dead of night, run away

*Your funeral was held; the empty coffin, buried
As you nurse your wounds in sweet success
Thinking of that face that made you find strength
               - yout pain is taken away

All I’m beginning to feel is pain. My mind is buzzing and throbbing because I’ve shoved it out of sight. My chest aches from a diet of fried foods and breathing toxic conversation. My ears sting from biting criticisms my parents present of: homosexuals, the homeless, drug addicts, hippies, and myself. Ten days trapped, with no escape but my mind. I should have prepared better; brought armor and weapons, but nothing cuts through the opinions of the ignorant. Nothing can expose the lies they’ve fed themselves.

My mother loves “people watching” she says, but only from a safe distance. Far enough to see the grit, but not the despair.
My father is fickle, brooding and American. He can’t look foreigners in the eye and scoffs at language barriers.

Together they make assumptions: drug addict, idiot, fornicators, harlot, thief, terrorist, local, wealthy, foreign.  Maybe they’re right to assume the negative; maybe they’re right when they say all the homeless are drug addicts. I hope not, I maintain faith, faith in the beauty of life, in the inherent differences we all possess, not in a God they say, says no to: liars, and *****, and prostitutes, and druggies, and the tattooed, I run, from them and their prayers, and arrogance and conclusions.

Smite me, parents, your darlingdaughter.

I’ve been all of those.
I lie to you, hide my true self, to spare you.
I’ve smoked ***.
I’ve drank underage.
I’ve been a ****.
I’ve been called a *******.
I’ve loved the idea that love is real, whether you’re gay or straight.

You **** my faith, force in your ideals and chain me to a cross you’ve built yourselves of hypocrisy, of hate, of misunderstanding, of fear, of criticism. I struggle to get free. Defend my principles, play “devil’s advocate,” when you know as well as I, I’m not playing. I’ll prove it, be more than you’ll allow, do more than you want.

I’ll find more love than your Christianity-tainted mind can fathom.
I’ll explore the depths of the mind you’ll never know.
I’ll remember the love you made me forget.
I’ll make love to men without a ring on our fingers, and feel no remorse.
I’ll tattoo my body, to show the world the beauty of my mind.
I’ll buy a Koran because I see its beauty.
I’ll attempt to understand others.
I’ll give to the homeless, even if they’re drug addicts.
I’ll love everyone that’s real, because I can. Because it’s more important than God or war or assumptions or generalizations, or patriotism.

You think I’m rebelling?
No. no. no. I’m just living.

Since you’re moving on, it’s okay to talk. It’s okay to share, because she’s taken my place. She’s shaken your foundations, buried herself deeper in your soul than you buried our pain.

Since I’m moving on, it’s okay to tell you my discoveries. To show the happiness I’ve found. To hide the anger at your failure to tell me about her. And the guilt I feel at hiding him from you.

Since you’re okay with pretending we never loved. I’ll be okay with it too. You buried your pain deep, you say. Mine, mine is the surface, flaking away with each kiss, each whisper, each smile, each intake of smoke, each shot of liquor.

I’m making new playlists, learning new songs.
You’re posting more poetry, finding new loves.

You’re driving new places, losing more weight.
I’m watching new movies, and gaining mine back.

You’ve discovered liquor.
I’ve discovered THC.

I’m trying hard not to break a heart, finding that slow-growing love is just as scary as the unexpected fall.

I’m learning to give and take: compliments, favors, anything really. I’ve found new eyes to explore and a new face to map. I’m kissing those other boys. This time though, I’m still here, I’m still me.

I still don’t want picket fences, or a God. But, he doesn’t either. We don’t plan further than two days in the future and savor the moments. And now we’re spinning faster, farther than I thought I’d go anytime soon. And what you and I had fades fast. Faster than I thought possible. I’m pushing forward. Moving past pain, and anger, and jealousy. And the fear that I’ll never be the same.

I’m letting people in, letting them help. Sharing the weight, alleviating burdens, letting myself be loved, be healed, be anything.

I just want happiness. For you, for me.

I want to see more than flat plains and a familiar college campus. I want to explore the unfamiliar. I want to find truth in a new mind. I want to say with absolute certainty that I’m past us, and you. That I’ve let go of our eight months, and grabbed onto my present.

Since I’ve let go, so have you. Since you’re unburdened, so am I.

Since we’re both moving further and further apart, I guess I should say Good-Bye.

There is comfort with you, the softness of you, hair, eyes, smile, hands, counteract my hard edges. Neutralizing. My acidity becomes neutral as you trace the angels of the spine and hip bones. Our chemistry creating the ultimate balance. Locking eyes ignites chemicals below the stomach bubbling in my throat and chest. Soft lines of fingers, juxtaposed against my fumbling appendages. The quiet of your voice colliding with the raucousness of my own. The basic collision of differences creating the uncontrollable, but inevitable reaction. But within the difference lies the similarity, the melody of voices vocalizing literature. The magnetic pull compelling our bodies to become one. The warmth of flawed bodies tangled together in a twin bed. The resentfulness towards hatred and hypocrisy, the inclination towards love and understanding. The creation of something inexplicable, something unknown, unexpected, something that has redefined beauty.

Look up to the sky.
On the other side you might just be doing likewise.
You're wondering if there's someone
out there like you tonight.
Someone out there who longs for more
and is slowly losing the fight.
Would you be the one who understands?
Says, darling,it's alright
come take my hand.
Yet before I could have a leap of faith,
I let out quite a sigh.
That sort of happy ending story
was never quite yours or mine.
It's like I could almost feel you
just across that dark still sky.
It's like we might just be an
almost love song,but why?
Fate plays us on two sides of the universe.
We'd never cross,we'd never meet,
we'd never know we both exist.
Look up to the sky.
On the other side you might just be doing likewise.