and with the smoke in my lungs and his words flowing around me, I could feel the vibrations in my bones and I could hear the thumping of my heart as I sang along. What a beautiful day. What a beautiful life.

and I throw up "I love you's" and think of a time when they meant something other than the useless ways they are said nowadays

I am void.

Invisible and not important,
To anyone including myself.

I am ugly.

This beautiful face betrays me,
I must have a wicked soul.

I am empty.

Giving so much of myself to others,
Yet I get nothing I need in return.

I am vacant.

You see it in my eyes,
Light dimming with each breath.

I am bare.

Stripped of all comfort and security,
Naked before you I feel ashamed.

I am worthless.

An item traded for lesser value,
Something you couldn't wait to donate.

I am nothing.

A shadow on the wall,
A small thought that rarely wonders to the surface.

I am so very lonely.

Foggy days in absentia
Caught in the ripples of a memory
The sparkling bay laps the sand
Soaking in the love
Tanning in the brightness of a smile
Living behind closed eyes
Where the heart is full
And the soul lives with its mate
In that bliss, glowing red
That is where eternity continues
Bliss found in a gaze
Perfection in a kiss
sigh, foggy days in absentia

Tried it
for 30 years.

Not bad,
but not
for me.

Now I agree with
Katherine Hepburn
who never married:

"I prefer
to live nearby
and visit often."

The simplest
solution so often
the most elegant.
   ~mce

A gentleman, my father is.
He’s kind, and loving, and caring.
A liar, my mother is.
Her anger is never sparing.
Patient, my father is.
He waits for freedom.
A partier, my mother is.
She wakes feeling like dung.
Quiet, my father is.
He thinks before he speaks.
Spontaneous, my mother is.
In another bed, her secret leaks.
Forgiving, my father is.
He lets her back inside.
Stupid, my mother is.
Her ringer is on high.

Broken, their marriage is.
Lying, cheating, deceiving.
Tired, I am.
For ever believing.

she’s the girl who will remember everything. from your birthday, to the story behind that scar on your left arm, to the number of freckles on your body.

she will love every inch of your body and your soul and even the heart you didn’t know you had.

she will take in everything you have to offer and give you back so much more. so much, that you won’t even know what to do with it.

she will open up the world for you. from books and music and film to things like culture and race and language.

she’s smarter and far more beautiful than she dares herself to show.

and you will love her.

you will love her like you’ve never loved anybody before.

she will level every winter your body has suffered with all the springs her bones have weathered.

and when you go, because you can no longer handle her, she will drown herself in alcohol and drugs and sorrow. and wonder why she wasn’t good enough.

she will refuse to be saved by any other hand because nobody can touch her quite like you.

she will **** herself with loneliness and then resurrect with her own scent.
and then she will do it again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

she will be weak and strong and bold and shy and mean and nice and everything in between.

she will grow. she will grow strong and tall.

and so will you.

and in ten years from now, when you run into her at the supermarket, she will ask about your marriage.

and while you’re there telling her about your wife, who is home with the kids, and your job, she will feel genuinely happy for you.

because she forgave you. she forgave you for walking away and she forgave herself for ever thinking she wasn’t good enough.

she will have realized by then that sometimes life will give you somebody just to watch you break when it takes them away from you.

and she will be okay with it.

and so will you.

but, she will walk away without telling you about her life because she doesn’t want you to hear it in her voice that she still remembers your birthday, and that birthmark on your right shoulder.

and that ten years ago, she had hoped you would run into somebody else and told them all about her being at home with the kids.

I wanted to fill the cracks of his mind, and breathe his very breath. Need consumed by deep desire, leaving me scared to death.

I hung a rope on that tree, where I used to kneel and pray. Struggling to keep my head up, waiting for something he refused to say.

I wanted to slip and fall into arms, eager to break my fall. Scattered hopes cast about, that are just shadow puppets on the wall.

I cupped my hands to catch his tears, but the favor was never repaid. Slip the rope around my neck, in hopes to repair the mess I made.

I wasted all my saved up wishes, just in the end to tie the knot. I finally took that step and hang myself, with all the promises he forgot.