I turned off the lights and walked away
From everything that we could’ve been
And everything we could never be.

Mortar crust upon my skin
from building walls too thin

to provide myself a sanctuary
where I can deny those who care for me.

I cannot resist my need to hide
So I lurk and recoil inside;

I clumsily regress into a crawl
as my tears remember how to fall.

When I was nine years old, my mother threw me into the shower.
Holding the removable shower facet in my face and proceeded to drown me.
This wasn’t a regular occurrence, fully clothed body and screaming for her to stop.
Choking, crying as this water cascaded into my open mouth while I struggled against the grasp of a plump body.
This scene, shattering protrusion of fear and betrayal.
A woman clawing out of flesh from the inside. “Don’t hurt her, she’s your daughter” one voice said but the urge was too strong.
I knew this woman, as she ripped me sleeping from my bedroom.
The smaller room in a two bedroom duplex adjacent to the bathroom and not very far.
“God wants me to do this”echoed repeatedly.
My brain registers the reality that she doesn’t intend to hurt me but I can’t breathe.
This only lasts a few minutes, she has done the lords work of cleansing the evil from me.
My mother apologizes profusely, but she is still my mother.
She holds me and dries me off.
I cry.
The moment passes.
And everything is normal.

She wore a long black dress,
That showed off some of her dark skin,
And a little bit of her *******,
Her hair was pulled up the top of her head,
And she had on thick reading glasses
You would think she was about to take a test,

He wore a light blue shirt and dress pants,
And wore a golden watch with thick leather  straps,
He asked her to sit by the big wide window,
So he could look at her under the golden sun,
When his hand touched her skin,
"Cafe' con leche" she whispered to him,

Before today they only existed in each others dreams,
Exchanged many letters,
Where they talked about many things,
Fears, hopes and secret needs,
They spoke about Wishes,
About lack of kisses they both now seek,

She shivered as he touched her lips,
His cold white hand lit fire to her dark skin,
They wanted more than the wishes and horses,  
They wanted hugs and kisses,
A fine romance
Where they could both feel safe,

Wishes and kisses,
Dreams and Desires,
Beggars wishing to riding horses,
Me and him hoping to stop time,
Cafe' con leche their fingers marry,
Tonight they will live out their dreams!

I will never be
ensconced in
charming lace
valentine
            hearts
candypink encased
You will not see me
withering away
back of hand
          upon brow
in fainting stance
in a flowing silk dress
swinging on a
           perfect bough
For I am a river
wild and true
sometimes quiet
sometimes
roaring and
             soaring in
shimmering hues:
Blues and greens
mixed with shades
           of earth, of fire
bespeaking emotions
in tones of desire
My river can get messy
can flood over too fast
because my heartstrings
                       get pulled
by the strength of
                        the blast
It can bring up
colored stones
in its undertow
fish and otters
spinning
in voodoo
          overflow

As the colors rise up
in this heated coolness,
                          this deluge
the influx overwhelms me
with a power so huge
and then I need
     some metallics,
flecks of silver and gold
to soothe
passion's piquancy
                when it gets
                   particularly bold
                      Specked within rocks
                    to ground me, keep
               my feet on the soil
             prevent my heart
          from slipping
       down into
     a choking,
         hot oil

Bronze minerals reflect
peaks of sadness,
     searing pain
        from rawness of hurt
          with no one to blame
             Yes, it can be a balm
                         and also a burn
to be so linked
by spirit-threads
to another, in emotions
that churn
just on the brink
but never truly there
to experience the
         fullness of rush
ripe culmination
abundant and lush

and that's when the
river turns
into molten
              lava...
and I must dig
deep under
layers of ancient strata
seeking relief
in coolness of earth
as my spirit
             again undergoes
              a kind of rebirth
For when we
grow to love
strange things
happen, indeed
       In the core of
my essence
you are the root
of my
        seed