They are strangers now, separated by their worlds and walls.
There is no chemistry, no spark, nothing special.
They are simply strangers, sharing a couch.

One is autumn, one is spring;
one likes talking, and the other? Listening.

If walls could talk, they’d weave a tale so tragic.

In the beginning, he was sun, and she was moon.
At the ending, she was running, but he was leaving.

In the beginning, there are many things.
There is music, and laughter, and broken strings.
They have cooperation, and commitment, and promises.
Her mom gives them glasses, his mom gives them dishes.
She has her charcoals, he has his guitar.

At the ending, close to the ending-
There is his guitar, her laughter, they’ve broken things.
And that is all that is left.

Promises and glasses, dishes and hearts.
A year of trying and losing is written on the walls;
the wallpaper- peeling, the curtains- ripping.

He clears his throat, she stills- hoping.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, and it’s okay.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, “that it’s ended this way.”

I’m sorry, she hears. I’m sorry, that it’s ended this way.
I’m sorry, she hears. That it’s ended this way.

“It’s ended this way?”
“I’m ending it this way.”

The lizard king came alive in the walls of prophets,
A shrine to help follow the subjects of the topic.
I lost my mind, but found it inside the tombs of those left behind.

I left a part of my soul on La Ciegna Boulevard.
The looking glass had the last laugh,
Some smiled.
The sun dials told the time accurately.

The shadows followed me from one side of the city to the other.
All the way to the coast of the continent.
It was here I found the confidence that was lost in the dominance of you.

We broke on through to the other side,
but it was too soon,
and the other side was the same like butterflies.

Cocooned in symmetrical thoughts of the stars in your eyes.
It’s no surprise we both knew it all at that moment.
Our toes exposed naked in the sand and lost in emotion.

How does the mountain thank the breeze?
How does the ocean sway,
A changed direction switched to thee
A wave who could not stay

Two mere creatures of the dust,
And one, by far, the better
Deep below the world's thick crust
With dreams matched to the letter

The icy breeze may hold the truth
Which one, unwisely, held
The other, so,  had thought, 'forsooth!'
The one, too far, compelled

A ring, a wrap, of roses neat
All thorns and vines and taint
Around, around, to near defeat
One never was a saint

And so one leaves with fear and hate
After layers of mistake
Some will think it comes too late
The other one might break

But this was not to spite from one
And not in fault of thee
Nor in rashness, careless done
Mayhap one day you'll see

How in this truth, so taught by act
The withering may start
The found are far more lost, in fact
Without a place in heart

And so one says goodbye at last
To her friend, the other
Though space between their lives is vast
They'll meet in yet another

I travel in your fair thoughts
As though to travel in your world.
Sometimes, I try to understand
Why your eyes cannot reach me.
Sometimes, I do not know you but--
But still I want to linger
Like I truly know you.                  

Shyly, I intend to blanket you with my palms
As if I can cocoon a butterfly back
Into its gentle sleep.
I am absorbed at it and I cannot disengage.

You bring hope and needed refuge to a wandering soul.
Cluelessly, your blue warmth caresses,
And it opens for me
Like an afternoon:
My rest from tough day's work.
Because of you I can somehow get by
With this life.

Love,
You're my north star,
And another,
And a few hundreds more.
I intend to walk and follow
My disregard for my longing heart.
But still, at night, you form for me
A constellation, a guiding invitation
Just to love again.

And how I need to lean on you,
Like a book leaning to another.
But at times, when I can see you reaching out,
It is my hand that readily un-fists and steadies,
Worried for which its not accountable of.

Because of you I can only imagine--
How immense would re-birthing
Drowned islands be inside your heart,
As I wonder at a far-off shore
How to get there, how to know you.

'Cause maybe
Just like me,
You are finding someone new.

© 2010 J.S.P.

A voice whispers words into my veins
A voice instructs me, strut this way
And that way too, don’t stop...I’ll never shoo.
By the time I’ve made it to the train
My heart begins to
                                                            T­****
                                                            ­          
                                                      ­                   Thump

                                                          ­                           Thump

                                                          ­                                                      Without a moment to choke
                                                           ­                                                          I hop on the station
                                                         ­                                                  Headed west, with barely a breath
                                                          ­                                A thought in this head that steals any concentration

Sleep eludes me, you penetrate me
Enrich me with the echoes of your mind
Bare with me, let us intertwine
                                                            A path paved over by the ways of the world
                                                            Still hot and sticky, I mold it with my toes
                                                             Imprinted with my wishes and my hopes
No traces of intervention
No substance of prevention



Sitting atop the stool
Painted by the artist
Within his palm
Lies his instrument
Prepared to implement
Painting shadows of time and space
Strokes back and forth
Lines united by grace
                                                       ­                                         A picture varnished
                                                   ­                                           A piece of time caught
                                                      ­                                         As quick as created, it
                                                              ­

                                                               ­                                                   dis..
        ­                                                                 ­                                               si..
             ­                                                                 ­                                                 pa.
                                                             ­                                                                 ­           .tes


                                                      ­Fading with all its glory

Eye lashes flicker
a shared urgent interest
parting - dancing smile


.

I remember the jelly bean jar
perched next to the owlish librarian
in my school when I was younger.  
One lucky soul would win a prize
for pulling the right number of jelly beans
out of an air still filled with fancy.
I can’t remember who won the prize,
and I can’t remember what the prize was.

But I guess as selfish minds are wont to do,
I remember the act of guessing.  
It was a childhood of guessing,
and I wonder if any of those guesses were truly wrong?  
When the engine of innocence toils away,
any solution, however fanciful,
can’t be false in a world that finds falsity
in far more veritable places.

I digress back to that jelly bean jar,
packed full of sugar,
and to a young mind,
full of promise.  
To a mind such as mine,
a mind akin to my classmates
who shared my sugary desire for that jar,
any guess was as good as the other,
as long as any guess was your own.  

We clutched ordinary pencils
scribbled on ordinary paper
with our own extraordinary numbers.  
In the basket went these figures most accurate.  

Days during the week passed
with those store brand jelly beans
mashed against each other,
childhood memories turned ordinary pages
wrote with ordinary pencils
until that singular, self-sure number
mashed against pages turned against it.  

However strong that memory of numerology
in a room full of words is etched in my mind; no trace
of the end of the jellybean contest remains in my ledger.
No trace of the disappointment of losing out
on such a treasure trove of tooth decay.  

But I guess this is the way of the mind,
it tends to trace out the positives
while it remains filled with youthful levity,
no weight is imbued in innocent minds,
and so tragedy, loss, and disappointment
float away past untroubled eyes.  

But time rolls on and much like the crushed growth
under an ever-rolling stone,
our lives start to fall harder on softened memories.  
Our lives harden with our heads,
and those days of living out short-lived fantasies
fade with jelly bean guesses.  
So as we mature and feign to seek the truth,
a small part of me keeps a singular page earmarked
for a time when the truth no longer weighs
                                                                              down the air with half-true deceit, and a mind long
abandoned
will return to grasp fanciful ideas
out of an air that’s still light enough
to evade our youthful fingertips.

Nobody ever found a dead seagull.
They plan their final flight.

Nobody ever felt comfortable waiting in line.
They're too far away from the table wine.

Nobody ever got you, Rachel.
They can't chip through your glassy eyes.

Nobody ever got rid of a lie.
Their deceit  simmers into a wish.

Nobody ever married me.
They leave me for Jesus Christ and civil wars.

Nobody ever heard a juke joint singer hit a perfect note.
They applaud for black culture.

Nobody ever found a dead seagull.
Their feathers disintegrate under the ocean's weight.

Nobody ever felt comfortable at a wedding.
They sit curious about the contents under the wedding dress.

Nobody ever got you, Rachel.
They try to pull you down from your high heels.

Nobody ever got rid of their parents.
They settle for calling long distance.

Nobody ever married me.
They only nod at my longwinded history.

Nobody ever heard a fine-combed politician stutter.
They picket sign and roll their eyes.

Nobody ever found a dead seagull.
They control the waves with ghostly wings.

Nobody ever felt comfortable holding a newborn.
They look at porcelain skin like a loaded gun.

Nobody ever got you, Rachel.
They can't afford your grace.

Nobody ever got rid of a former lover.
They avert their eyes as they stroll by.

Nobody ever married me.
They complain about their fiancees.

Nobody ever heard a mother say, "Everything won't be alright."
They find out when the rent comes due.

Nobody ever found a dead seagull,
and they will never find me and you.

Those gloved hands, concealing tears of
The lady opposite. I ask her
For a moment of her time.
She looks through hair, through me.

I simply point –
To the passive, low-slung disc
Out there; a massive levitation
Breaking away from the burned horizon.
Its proximity and its haunting face.

It falls away, behind a tunnel.
‘A wink,’ I tell her. ‘A hint.
Nothing lasts so long
That the grandeur, out there,
Recalls it. The snow reveals the weeds.
The wind disrupts their seeds.
It’s all momentum, smooth and sure:
Less leads on to more – breeds more,
Breeds more.’

She doesn’t know I feel the same; that
The train and I are on our tracks,
Both inexorably drawn. And
If we alight at dawn,
We’ll see that the journey lacked
And open the doors – reborn.

tell me what keeps you awake at 2 am
whether it’s the girl who took the knife of her absence and stabbed it into your sternum
or the loneliness that swallows your skin

play the one song which releases the floodgates in your eyes
and let me listen to it over and over again
until i find which line makes your heart drop to your stomach

describe the story of your body to me
tell me of the invisible scars too
and with each detail you describe
i will make a map
so i know which road bumps to avoid
or which holy sites to fall to my knees and kiss the ground of

remember that
i wear a mask brimming with self confidence and an armor of words that are both easy to tear for they were thin like tissue to begin with
i am sensitive
taking to hurt the way a sponge absorbs water

do not hide me behind closed doors or keep me entrapped in bed sheets
when you walk past me, do not pull your hood over your head and avert your gaze
i need you to look at my eyes as if they illuminated the entire world
and kiss my lips as if they are what allow you to breathe

open the door.
bring me flowers.
because the only boy who did either was my 5th grade boyfriend

be willing to meet my family and friends
for they were the ones who created the marble statue whom you marvel at today

take note of how my heart is a reflection of myself
how she is too kind and will kiss the same man who tore her in two
so please do not say words which will make her wings flutter
if you are not ready to be the nest she flies to

let me know that me, as myself, i am enough
that i do not need to be a chameleon
dipping myself in new colors each day to please you

remember the little things about me
like how my first phrase i uttered was shut up to a man in an elevator or the delight i take in handwritten letters and mix CDs, or the significance of my first tattoo
because everything about you is being etched into the walls of mind
so that i can never forget

trace your fingers with a loving tenderness over my scars from the times i transformed my body into a crucifix
pinning my hands and feet onto a cross out of habit
thinking love was a word synoymous with self sacrifice

you must learn my language
know what zips my lips into silence
know the difference between when i want to give up versus when i will actually do so
and be there to hold me when the seams start to unravel

if you want me to love you
know that many have tried and failed
that people like me are not meant to be soft
if you want me to love you
know that to me
love is not a word you spit out of your mouth and juggle in your hands
you need to promise that our love won’t be like an hourglass
for my body has been disfgured enough from the times my chest turned inside out from the pang of abadonment
if you want me to love you
reaffirm my body is a kindgom, my heart is the treasure, and that i am your queen
paint pictures for me in what you do and say
telling me i am worthy to be loved, worthy to be kept, and worthy to stay

but if you really want me to fall in love with you
tell me what you see right before you close your eyes at night to fall asleep
and if you tell me it’s me
i will fall unfathomably further for you than i already have

Free your castles to the sky.
Hold a hand
Other than yours
And speak
Like you never met me,
As I go from passing glance
To stare.

Let January be itself
And us
The month to follow
Or months
If your heart seemed willing:

For I am not your friend
Or a stranger
That wanted to be.
I'm just in love,
And in love
I breathe anew.

So search now
As if you haven't found me,
But as for me,
I've found my heart

© 2010 J.S.P.

Please don't hurt me.
I've only just recovered,
from the very last time.
I may keep trying to forgive you,
but the memory won't go.
I still remember how you made me fear.
I don't want to feel that pain again.
It's that part of you I can't bare.
You seem to take my heart right out,
which brings all the pain.
But then you come right back,
and put it back again.
But then you don't just take it.
I've just got my heart back from you.
So what else can you do now?
You stab at my heart again.
Once is not enough.
You keep coming back for more.
You've stabbed me a thousand times,
but you're still at my door,
asking for one more.
But what if it's like last time?
Because I can't take another stab.
This one is the last.
The next time you come back,
I'm lying dead on the floor,
bleeding from my heart.
I couldn't live with you stabbing it anymore.