I led her, at last, to the lip of the crater.
The smell and heat had been increasing as, each conversation,
We drew closer to it.

Apprehensive, I searched her eyes.
She saw it fully, my greed and my shame,
The cavernous need of my worst natures.
Flames singed her hair and the smell choked us both.
But, "still", she said, "be still..." and smiled into my face.

She confused him, that creature of The Wild.
He belonged to her, without a shadow of doubt.
But she was the moon to his sun, The darkness to his light.
She was the yin to his yang, and the throes of fire that consumed his sea.
While he conquered worlds,
She stayed trapped in her self erected prison.
And as her flew to the universe beyond reach,
She sank in a bottomless pit.
And yet,
He was drawn to her.
Like the cycle that held day and night,
And the inexplicable line between captive and Captor.
        One could not exist without the other,
        *But neither, could they exist together.

It's not your big body that I ached to see
but the company that you bring to me

It cannot be the lust that most human feel
but a deeper longing that only you could heal

It's not about your face that I want to kiss
but your eyes that see my soul that I really miss

It's not about your arms as my pillows at night
but the comfort you bring when you're visible at my sight

It's not only your hug that I really long
but the half of my heart where these emotions belong

It's not only the word that I want to hear
but the warmth of your touch so I'll never fear

It's not anything physical and material, my man
but something rooted from heart, something spiritual

It's not anything that this world can give
but it is your love, only with you I want to live!

In the corner of my mind
You have your eye elsewhere-

Even though I may be the dark
to me, you are something light
The one who's face
Makes me excited to turn corners
That is what I think of you

A pause of breath
would make me question
your honesty-

With each word spoken
your tree of clandestine nights
Seems to take it's shape
A lot more beautiful than mine
It makes me angry, jealous
But I grow a little fonder
With each new stroke of colour
On it's shining leaves

You are like a power drill to me
Always changing your drill bit head
To slowly remove every part of me-

You are something else too
As queer as a clockwork orange
Nothing I do will make you change
You can do that for yourself
You're not a robot
Just a collection of fleshy wires

and a circuit board where your heart should be

Your screws will come loose too
One day-

With a pitter patter to the floor
You'll feel yourself tremble
And before you know it
You'll be gone
Battery run dead
Drill bits turned blunt
Perhaps as cold and idle as me

My heart aches from your words
Don’t make assumptions of me
when you don’t know who I am,
only what I reflect of you
We’re moving too fast
Emotionally I’m unstable
Mentally unable to understand
why I feel such grief at the
idea of happiness within
my reach? Because on the
other side there is terror
of unknown waters, and I
will definitely sink instead
of swim because my legs are
tired of kicking back the demons
of uncertainty; drowning in
my own ocean of sobs,
all because I’m sensitive to
the pain of others, and I want
to hurt none or leave anyone
to ache as I do; so I hoard all
of me and what I give to you—
serenity dissolving to apologies
when I owe nobody but me.

This silent choice you've made  
Is hung in the shape of a willow tree
Branches intertwining around my bruising flesh
Twisting and churning into a leafy cage from you to me  
Yes
I've noticed it

And I scream out to try and get your attention again
To try and get you to look into my eyes like you once did
My 3 a.m. bloodshot eyes
Which drive you further away with every thin line of red across their glassy surface
But in daylight well disguised
Dressed up in paper jokes and drawn on smiles
That burn my flesh to put on and take off  

And What kind of melodrama is this?
This dull story
Perhaps any excuse to not be happy will do me
You amongst many the piece to my puzzle
Or maybe
this is simply a poignant reminder of the time we have lost together

My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.

I close my eyes in wait.

I’m waiting.
Waiting

Waiting for the hurt to give way to understanding
Waiting for dismay to give way to hope
Waiting for light to penetrate the dark
Waiting for gloom to pave way for glee

I’m still waiting.

I’m trying.
Trying not to feel. Not to think.
Trying to numb the pain that numbs my senses.
Trying to keep going. Believing. Loving.
Trying to overcome the contradictions that challenge everything I put my trust in.

Yes, I’m trying.

And then you come along.
Stare me in the eye, assuring.
You calm me, soothe, promise of a better land.
I believe you.

I feel no need to try anymore.
There’s no more waiting.

Who said death isn’t beautiful?

When searching for the lost remember 8 things.

1.
We are vessels. We are circuit boards
swallowing the electricity of life upon birth.
It wheels through us creating every moment,
the pulse of a story, the soft hums of labor and love.
In our last moment it will come rushing
from our chests and be given back to the wind.
When we die. We go everywhere.

2.
Newton said energy is neither created nor destroyed.
In the halls of my middle school I can still hear
my friend Stephen singing his favorite song.
In the gymnasium I can still hear
the way he dribbled that basketball like it was a mallet
and the earth was a xylophone.
With an ear to the Atlantic I can hear
the Titanic’s band playing her to sleep,
Music. Wind. Music. Wind.

3.
The day my grandfather passed away there was the strongest wind,
I could feel his gentle hands blowing away from me.
I knew then they were off to find someone
who needed them more than I did.
On average 1.8 people on earth die every second.
There is always a gust of wind somewhere.

4.
The day Stephen was murdered
everything that made us love him rushed from his knife wounds
as though his chest were an auditorium
his life an audience leaving single file.
Every ounce of him has been
wrapping around this world in a windstorm
I have been looking for him for 9 years.

5.
Our bodies are nothing more than hosts to a collection of brilliant things.
When someone dies I do not weep over polaroids or belongings,
I begin to look for the lightning that has left them,
I feel out the strongest breeze and take off running.

6.
After 9 years I found Stephen.
I passed a basketball court in Boston
the point guard dribbled like he had a stadium roaring in his palms
Wilt Chamberlain pumping in his feet,
his hands flashing like x-rays,
a cross-over, a wrap-around
rewinding, turn-tables cracking open,
camera-men turn flash bulbs to fireworks.
Seven games and he never missed a shot,
his hands were luminous.
Pulsing. Pulsing.
I asked him how long he’d been playing,
he said nine 9 years

7.
The theory of six degrees of separation
was never meant to show how many people we can find,
it was a set of directions for how to find the people we have lost.

I found your voice Stephen,
found it in a young boy in Michigan who was always singing,
his lungs flapping like sails
I found your smile in Australia,
a young girls teeth shining like the opera house in your neck,
I saw your one true love come to life on the asphalt of Boston.

8.
We are not created or destroyed,
we are constantly transferred, shifted and renewed.
Everything we are is given to us.
Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside us can only be contained for so long.
We do not die. We pass on, pass on the lightning burning through our throats.
when you leave me I will not cry for you
I will run into the strongest wind I can find
and welcome you home.