you were tied to the corner of the barn,
small brown patch on your back,
excited to be close to fun smells,
tail wagging, but i think
you knew what was about to happen.
i watched from my bedroom window for a moment,
and cried my tears into the pillow,
life without my first friend was about to begin.
i was told what happened,
you passed quickly, went to sleep,
a grateful sigh your last breath,
the vet's job done well.
my brother buried you in the pasture behind the barn -
he didn't tell me where.
but i found you, years later,
your bones curled up in a perfect sleeping pose
in the hollowed-out ruins of an old tree stump.
i still recognized you,
and i wept.

watching the lovers,
the streetlights casting silhouettes against the concrete
while my mind and heart stray to another time,
another place where that was us,
finding in the other a passion deep and longing,
a thirst, need, and hunger to sample the unknown,
to revel in the timelessness of an embrace,
where clocks don't matter and
the rest of the world can vanish with a single electrifying touch.
i remember when we could experience that thrill,
before we took each other for granted,
and learned to hide what we were feeling under polite nods and grins.
it was pure, then,
uncomplicated, and driven by nothing other than the moment;
a silhouette there for a moment and gone when the lights go out.

sometimes,
i write long posts that i erase,
not because i'm embarrassed,
or they were bad,
or the thought that seemed clear became jumbled and lost,
but because i needed to write it,
to see the words on a page defining the author at the keyboard,
speaking plainly, simply,
there i am on the screen in front of me.
i used to think it meant i was a terrible writer,
that i lacked talent,
intelligence,
the ability to convey my thoughts and passions.
but it's simply this:
to know who i am is the greatest gift in the world,
and the world doesn't have to know it.
sometimes, i write just so i get to read it.

he is always there, the eye-man -
when i close my eyes, i see him staring at me,
always staring,
accusingly,
frowningly,
judging every move i make.
i see only his eyes,
bright lights that cancel out any and all surroundings,
he has no features, save those intrusive eyes,
as though every little thing i even think about is open to him,
the eye-man,
my judge, jury, and executioner.
i am afraid of him now as i have always been.
he is me.

letting down the walls,
allowing the nightmare to wash over me,
a flood of fears and anxieties
i have worked so hard to keep at bay,
now consuming me
in ravenous hunger,
each one biting -
a million small mouths, each taking a piece of my energy.
i have always had enough to hold on,
to stay strong,
hidden behind the facade that i show the world.
now i close the door behind me,
accepting the mantle entrusted,
knowing that i will not make it through unscathed.
opening to the energy of the world,
feeling everything -
the hurt and pain,
sadness and joy,
success and achievement,
loss and grief,
feeling all the feels.

to look at life as
a puppy;
everything's for play.