4X6 inches
of perfection on a screen
a hint of tortured possibilities
carried in the pocket
of a life built
through blinders and
the most beautiful denial

4X6 inches
of hope undeniable
the foundation of dreams
dragging rough
through cascading walls
of a substandard fairytale
that twisted joy unhappy

4X6 inches
of a smile through a hurricane
bleeding pain through evaporating tears
a reality forged through time uncountable
landing in the rays truth created
when love proved
the existence of fate

4X6 inches*
of peace over pain
a wand in magical medicinals
crashing through solitary anguish
with eyes piercing armor
weaved in passive aggression
leading the lost home

a limp body
carried in broken arms
to a funeral pyre
hidden in the woods

tinder, salt-saturated
won't catch
drowning in the perception
of failure

life flows out
and seeps in
healing in unfettered
emotion

exhaustion bleeds thought
cracks fuse invisibly strong
still feeling both less
yet more, somehow

pyre lays unlit
as the heart dreams ablaze
in lost memories
of a life not yet lived

one without the other
cannot exhale
breathing in all the nothing
looking for the only thing

not knowing what or where
but the when is now
as wood sits on the ashes
of what came before

in the jolt of drowning
on overflowed tears
it flows out of each
and into the other

cracks fade
accidental truth is never an accident
too tired to continue
it was found where it lay sleeping

patient and blind
sprouts into the best
of unseen possibilities
the day you carried me in silence

Wasted
Alone in a land of wishes
Wanting to be wanted
Needing to be loved
Never realizing
It is in the very air
Taken in with every breathe
Waiting
In a world of half truths
And make believe
For a fairytale dream
Afraid to be dreamt
Longing
For what was deemed undeserved
In a life suffering in settlement
Searching
Through nightmares
For a pinpoint of light
For an alternate reality
For some semblance of home
Finding
What has always existed
What was birthed side by side
Created from the very same dust
Before time
Through time
Knowing
Loneliness no longer exists

Pandering for untruths
Like for like
Follow for follow
A thousand people who don't read
A thousand people who don't care
The occasional polite word
There is no satisfaction in falsehoods
One heart given out in truth
A word to show connection
One real follow over thousand barters
To touch another in honesty
To help another feel
That is the beauty of poetry
It breathes in those who read
A gift from soul to soul
Yes, that is
The beauty of poetry

Foggy days in absentia
Caught in the ripples of a memory
The sparkling bay laps the sand
Soaking in the love
Tanning in the brightness of a smile
Living behind closed eyes
Where the heart is full
And the soul lives with its mate
In that bliss, glowing red
That is where eternity continues
Bliss found in a gaze
Perfection in a kiss
sigh, foggy days in absentia

A worst-case-scenario mentality
Breeds emotional nightmares of what-ifs
Methodically feeling the pain in each possibility
Preparing for Hell, knowing it is impractical, improbable, and unkind
Each reaction gauged
Smiles erupt in each better choice
A familiar road traveled often
Lead only by a history of pain
It ebbs and flows, bobs and weaves at will
This reality is organized, easy to understand

Random thought of an unlikely, unfathomable future
Vivid like a film
Unwavering, persistent
There is no controlling its outcome
Forced to watch the images forged in a broken mind
Tears burn flesh and a naked heart bleeds
Stop rolling, just...stop
No amount of pleading slows the images
The pain is overwhelming
Far beyond self-inflicted, torturous, methodical thoughts
Uncontrollable, inconsolable
True and real
So very real

There is but one way to stop that future
The one shown in visions of just deserts
The future that smolders through present joy
Preemptive pain is just not an option

I've seen the future my heart has built
The shards of a shattered soul
Offer no comfort

My worst-case-scenario was but a benign freckle on the elbow of a body invaded by metastatic melanoma