So I’m marrying this young girl, see,
it’s the second time round.
My first wife died and
I’ve been struggling and drowning.
So I'm clutching the life raft
of this girl who is beautiful and young,
who’s romantic and sure of her ground,
and she and her family believe
that I can breathe and survive again.

Me?  Can I remember how to be gentle and kind to them?
It was luck. I was lucky before.
Because now I'm a veteran of the thousand campaigns
and I’ve bayed at the moon, see,
then I hunted with The Beast.

And anyway, my first wife and I
(*******, her name is Lorayne!)
suffered, and then suffocated
before our love soared so high.
Then we danced like fireflies, fabulously,
until the future ended forever.

So how can this new girl
find ecstasy with me and, and,
you know, live happily ever after,
which is such an impossible dream,
and how can I handle all this ******* purity
and innocence and beauty and youth
and flawless skin and fairy tale stuff
when I’m so gnarled
and twisted and knotted?
You see, I'm actually deeply ashamed.
In spite of my much vaunted campaigns,
I'm really a coward.
I'm afraid I can't drag myself back and do this again.
Can we possibly become fireflies and dance in the flame?

Yes, yes, I know.
We'll swear to love and to honor and to obey
in sickness and in health
in richness and in poorness
until death do us part.
Though this formula's too cute. It doesn't mention the pain.

But there's no other option. I must try to rise up again,
and alright, once more, I'll call on the flame.
So I'll cast out my demons and force them away.
Somehow, I'll hold those monsters at bay to give you
the light and the love you say
is still there, everywhere.
You are wide-eyed and oh, so naive.
But I desperately want to believe you.
I need you.
Oh god, I hope we can love without fear.

Mike T Minehan

'Do not be afraid'
They said to him
For there is no greater pain
Than that of death

And afterwards
As he looked grim
They took turns in telling him
That he would improve

Cancer
They repeated in his ears
Cancer
His brain chanted

It is eating me alive

But, as he looked up
At the ceiling
Of a sterile, cold
Hospital room

He realized they were wrong

The pain of death
Would sooner turn to a pleasure
Compared to the turmoil
Of his disease

Cancer
Again and again
They whispered to him
Hushing him
Lulling him to sleep with their evil, evil sighs

He did not believe their lies

The next day
He left the hospital room
He sat on the bus
And sat for hours

Going wherever
Fate wanted to take him

Everyday he did this
Everyday he tried to live
In another person's shoes

The bus driver's
The woman across the street
The man in the window,
At the motel down the road

He lived like they did

Until finally,
He realized
He did not want to live
Any life but his own

He went back to the hospital
He fought
He ached
He scarred
He broke down
And he won

Live no life but yours
He said to me as I wrote
Write any lives you want,
He repeated,
But live only yours