someone could light this body on fire
and it still would not be warm enough
to cure the coldness caught in the bones
that were formed from my mothers blood

worry about you.
                               now.
                                        get through this.

focus on surviving.
                                  on making it through.

the rest is just dust.

                                       and i promise,
                                                                ­  one day,
                                                                ­                  this will be too.

what if my walls are too difficult
to knock down?

what if my ribs are bulletproof,
will you still aim your gun?

what if i am shooting
and the distance is only there

to protect

you.

will you still love me
if i am slowly killing you?

will you still love me if all of my darkness
is in your hands
as if saying,

“here. here is your death.
let me **** you”?

i’m learning to see the love.

i’m learning to look at you
and not automatically see rage.

or fear.
or hurt.
or my father.

i will look at you and not see my father.

because you are kind
kind
kind

and there is actually so much love here.

and for once,
i can find it
without digging through
all the mud.

all the hurt.

rain soaked skies,
warmth blanketed bodies
laughing loudly
(oh god how sweet is the laughter)

gin painted lips
worn with love and passion.
voices of friends  
whispering prophecies

of a lifetime
waiting to be spent together.

all of this goodness
huddled under the shelter
of a house that holds
arms open.

with people warmed
by liquor that teaches tipsy.
that teaches joy filled tears
(i’m still echoing bellied laughter- it’s beginning to hurt)


there is so much love here.
it spills over plastic cups in hands
as a we dance
we dance.

i can not stop the gratitude
from leaving from my lips.

i can not be te ioly one that feels
all of this goodness.

(i love you,
please let us do this again.)

it's intoxicating.
the salt air on cool nights.

wind that disperses the scent,
pushing it closer to the deck
that warm bodies
are perched on.

warm bodies
that have full bellies
that grow painful
each time they laugh.

bellies that have been aching
for the last few hours,
because the laughter is harmonising
with body cries.

salt air
that blankets them.

salt air
so inebriating
it forces them into admission.

sweet confessions whispered
over mugs (warm and full).

songs of 'i love you'
swept up by the moon,
only to be caught in trees,
(let the words nestle here, please.
close to the ground,
before they are taken by the breeze).

and for a moment here,
they forget themselves,
forget the world,
and just be.

there's half eaten cake here.
remnants of its body
thrown onto small plates,
forks laid atop them.

empty bottles of cider
stand like bowling pins,
one stumble and they'll topple.
(much like us, one stumble and we'd fall).

drunken laughter,
spoken and unspoken admissions
fill the space between
silence and sleep.

and i wonder if years ago,
i hd made a different choice,
if this is still
where i'd be.