Ooo! Wee!

Ya got it on my armpit and hair
from my belly, I think you sings it from an egg
the push and pull, the truth and dare
rain-bead pearled in cloudlight bed
was it something I said? Or touched?

All my ex liked to talk about is ***
and wild intricacies like wow, buddy
I'm right here kinda spunky and funny
but his receptacle and receptacle-ees
aren't that interesting to me

please know that I love you more than the stars, the sun, and the skies could hold.

but I don't know how to fix something without damaging it the process.

you are fragile, and my hands have unintentionally fractured you countless times. I know this, even though you've never explicitly told me.

I dance on eggshells around you: I am atlas, pirouetting across an empire of thin ice, just so I don't mar you with my words.

swallowing conversations and feelings is a talent we both possess. to spare the pain of the other, we dampen the truth. we drink the fires of resentment and leave them to ferment.

I cannot fix this without potentially damaging it further.

I'm a storm with skin. my collateral damage knows no bounds, spares no mercy. you know this. but hear me, and heed me closely.

I don't paint you as the villain. you aren't the martyr. we are equally responsible for this damage and decay. the rot of something once beautiful.

yet I cannot fix something without causing further damage.

we are a two way street. growth of beauty cannot flourish in stagnation.

please, do not test the limits of my volatility. I cannot mend the tatters of thirteen years with a single spool of thread.

I refuse to swallow fermented resentment. I walk on eggshells carrying mountains for you no more.

this tapestry will end in one of two ways: opulent splendor, or devoured by living flames.

I cannot fix something without destroying it in the process.

Why must you wait for me
To rise above this endless fog
You wear the word martyr
like a bejeweled badge
Awaiting your ticket tape parade
I would gladly hide in my labyrinth
A careful construct of limitless emptiness
Illuminated by the new moon
I stumble through and through
Hoping for a quick exit over the cliff
But as usual, I’m sure footed

There is no room for you to wait
The fog is growing ever murkier
Although destitute of happiness
I can feel its presence forever in a memory
This is one thing that can be called hope
So there; some promising words to cling to
And know that I am not hopeless

Dear E. S.
poetry
is the world the human race
my own life
all flowered from the word
the transparent wonder
of a delirious ferment

When I find
one single word
in this my silence
it is hewn into my life
like an abyss

Giuseppe Ungaretti

Please don't pity me;
I really don't need it, you see.
In all the cities
Nobody likes the pities.
Pity parties stink;
They're not even worth a wink!