there's a lot of questions
regarding my heart
that remained unanswered.

is it made of fragile glass
or strong diamond?

is it fixable?
hammering nails
and drilling screws in
or we just glue it all back together?

what colour is my heart?
definitely not white.
is it red?
jet black?
or merely grey?

is it beating
or maybe sound i've been hearing
were the marching parade
to respect the death of my heart?

is it broken
or it was never complete?
but then *if it's broken, how can it still beat?

Their love was never possible
It could not allowed to be
So deceptively decant
The way the beach consumes the sea

Amid the fields of flowers
Where no one would ever see
He stripped her heart so bare
She begged him willingly

Exchanging dangerous glances
It made her heart to race
He consumed her every thought
They made it do in haste

But their days began to narrow
The path became unsure
Deceit flared out it's nostrils
For their lust there was no cure

The parting was barely visible
She went about her way
He chose the other path
That lead down to the cay

She sails in luxurious ships
He sits in a craber's shack
They both turn their shoulders
Always looking back

Their love was never possible

Once you’ve gone
what more is there
to say about leaving

or, for that matter,
the impermanence
of measured words.

All I can do is stand
alone in the backyard
and listen to the wind.

A late frost killed
the magnolia buds

and the forsythia
never materialized.

And so I wait for the worms
to begin their earthy work.

I wait for the pink moon
to rise above the rooftops.

I wait for the smell of mock orange
and the blue of a broken robin’s egg.

But most of all
I wait for your
words to bloom,

to tell me, finally,
that spring is here—

that the gardens we tend to
have something more to say.

Words are a kind of tirade against the darkness
Bless the day when there is nothing left to say
Sweat for yesterday given upon the wind
Our breathing grew labored and our souls did begin
To offer up their strength and make us capable
Of feats of bravery so very savory
We pounded and pulsed and drove ourselves crazy
Until the day you asked me if i was ready to go within

my mother told me
to stop crying.

i wished i could sail away
on the the rivers of sorrow
that stemmed from my foggy eyes,
to get away from here.

but she insisted
that i would find someone
with sunshine in their eyes
to make home
a little less dark.

i remember the first night
that i could feel you in my chest.
there were five of us in the room,
but i could swear
that you only told stories to me.

now, i could feel the white-hot spotlight
on the two of us,
but it was you that turned off the switch.

the first night that i felt close to you,
we were near.
you were drunk
but we counted the lights on the ceiling
and you told me that they were stars.

the second night,
you were drunk
but we watched bob ross
until the clock on the wall gave out,
and when he painted the sunset
with his little feather brush,
i could swear he was painting my ribs.

the third night,
you were drunk
and we crept into your room.
the lava lamp was on,
we tiptoed around your roommate,
and i saw the artificial sunlight
dancing on the wall.
you held me closer
than i ever had been
and your heart beat with mine.

you held me so tightly
that i swear i could feel
you fusing my broken pieces back together
and now i can't stop grasping my chest
to feel it again.

i woke up and you were sober,
and i'll be ******
if you weren't closer to me
than when there was more beer
in your veins than blood,
our foreheads aligned.

you held me in your arms
and still liked me anyway.
you could feel my insecurities
under your ******* fingertips,
and you could still find the light
within my cumulonimbus body.

i thought that you saw the sunset
within my golden hair
that got caught in your sleeve
that first night
and i thought you were open.

here's the thing:
i didn't know your eyes were blue
until the night that i saw them closed
as you were kissing another girl.

i mistook your alcoholic flambé
as a substitute for sunlight
and i'll be ******
because i can't emerge from the smoke.

you taught me
that the sunset is blue,
even if you don't notice until the last minute,
and that once someone's fingers
are intertwined with your ribs,
it takes warmth
to get them out.

i saw the sunlight in your eyes
when nobody else did.

you saw the rays
emanating from my body
when i was sure
that i was nothing but clouds
and wind that makes your skin sting
from the cold.

and all we're left with
(all that i'm left with)
is searching for the cloud break
just one more time.