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-D Sep 2012
dearest scorned face of metal,

that which clung so tightly to my chest;

you tried, you truly tried

to label my country, to give me a home,

but the only gift I took from your hands

was a boost up to where I truly wished to go:

to the stars.

-

and now that I have traveled there

(and back again)

I will allow you to swivel in the place where you sit,

for the memories of which your predicament reminds me

are worth more than the payment I would have to surrender

in its absence.
474 · Sep 2012
autumnal melody.
-D Sep 2012
i watched the leavesfall today—

and the windwhip through the crunching grasses…

you were there, too:

in the warmth i felt in my sweatersleeves

& in the way i feel lucky when my bootheelsclickthrice.

yes, you were there,

& i felt the warm breath of your sorrowful farewell

in the changing of the season.
469 · Apr 2011
Autumn.
-D Apr 2011
People are fallible creatures,
infallible being, of course, perfect,
and therefore fallible meaning
imperfect?

The fall of man
The fall of an apple onto Newton’s head
The apple falling, half-eaten, onto the ground
where God questioned Adam.
Like a man, he blames another, and
Like a woman, Eve hushes her mouth
and takes it.

I, a woman, fall and scrape my knees
Outside in front of a crowd of young men
(boys),
and they do nothing to aid
in the pavement’s punishment for my clumsiness.

And I, a woman, stand
    (up for myself?)
knees creaking, tendons snapping,
brush the dirt off the hole in my
thick, black, bloodied tights,
and grit my teeth in waiting
for what will come next.

For, just because we are
fallible,
doesn’t mean we cannot stand up.
468 · May 2014
cerebral hemorrhage.
-D May 2014
lights shining down a dim hallway
illuminate the ghostly remains of
you—
still slinking about within
the deep recesses of my mind.

inhale,
clutch you tightly within my lungs
[I cannot bear to release you hastily,
for your appearances are far too rare,
our memories much too few].

the scent of musk & former ardor
lingers in my nostrils;
flashbacks of sweat & bourbon
radiate in my temples,
throb in my chest.

I pause:
distant cackling replaces
your former fervent whispers
as my true recollections reveal themselves
out of the darkness—

memories of torment
& deception
& vices asphyxiate me;
blood begins to seep
from scarred over wounds

& I remember
why you are
but a ghost.


*exhale.
you
inhale
&
I
asphyxiate
you.
454 · Dec 2012
lament of a walk backward.
-D Dec 2012
why am I still breathing?
She said as she scoured the city with a broken heart;
the leaves, they keep on falling,
the leaves, they keep on fading--
and the trees, they keep on singing.

but why am I still aching?
She said as she smothered herself in his wounds and his wounds;
but never in His,
but never bandaging her own wounded spirit--
and the moon, it keeps on spinning.

but why am I still sighing?
She said as she sprints down roads she'd never traveled;
just to drown out the awakening demons,
just to sing their sad song once more in solitude--
and the car, it keeps on crashing.

but why am I still running?
She said as she awakens to bleeding heels and blistered hopes;
December, it keeps on wishing,
December, it keeps on manifesting dreams--
and the girl, she keeps on walking home with only the sound of her footsteps to accompany her.
425 · Apr 2011
The practice room.
-D Apr 2011
In this room,
a quiet room,
my dear friend
plays the piano
(he sighs into the ivory keys;
his fingers urgently pushing them
to their limits.)
                                  &
tunes his voice.
             (“I’m gonna make a lot
              of weird noises,” he says,
      aahhh,
        aahhahaaahh
                       ­ &trills.;
              Up to the ceiling, his voice goes.)

He pushes&pushes;&pushes;
his voice,
echoes&echoes;,
his eyes,
              closed.

A smile
peeks out through the syllables caught in his cheeks
while his feet aimlessly step upon those three little pedals,
as if he’d just been doing
the daily commute to and from work.

I sit on the floor,
a floor dusted with the footsteps of ***** shoes and
the result of lonely instruments.

I listen.

After he reaches that high C,
I look up at him and smile
and he looks down and smiles
and for a moment,
all of the pains I had
before I knocked on his door
dissipate into the air,
as beauty radiates in the room
in the form of eighth & quarter notes,
Italian & French,
aaahs & the silence of
            peace.
421 · Apr 2011
what we made of it.
-D Apr 2011
Something happened when
I finally allowed myself
to permit you
to see me.

Those eyes of yours, brimming pools,
reached so far deep into my being,
drawing out emotions and thoughts I was afraid to ever show you.
Your nose just breathing space away from mine,
a breath caught in your chest;
It happened—
I let you in.

And I think you recognized it,
for that gleam in your eye let me know
that you’re in it, too.

This is but a bittersweet, diminished thing that we both hold onto,
even after the time when tears filled our eyes.

We’ll never let go, you and I.

“I want to remember you like this,” you said, as you looked at me through fogging lenses.*

And I, you, like this.

It was in that moment we allowed ourselves to gaze upon
a last tattering photograph of when we were whole.
One last kiss,
one last woven catalyst of fingers,
and I held your face in my hands
and whispered, “You are incredible.”

But we just couldn’t be.
391 · Jul 2014
ours.
-D Jul 2014
you’re still gutting me open
as I sleep.
my heart races at the thought of us...

1.
being so casual with each other;
we have our jokes over
pourover coffees while
we make comments on each other’s
Agonized-over,
whiskey-induced writing.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

2.
going for walks in the evenings;
we have our places &
our friends to see, but
Neither is so important as
that we sleep next to each other
that night & each night from now on.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

3.
waking in the morning’s gentle light;
Dreaming,
even as I lay awake.
in one hand, you clutch our blanket,
in the other,
me.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

4.
feeling no hesitation;
so in love with each other
that we bend, but never break.
you chase,
& you catch—
Reverie is ours.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

5.
spending weekends in our bed;
your hands,
at one moment,
curled around your novel.
the next,
Entangled in my hair.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

6.
Watching our children leave for school;
I have to go to work, honey.
I know you’re late,
but I still pin you to the wall
before giving you your lunch
on your way out.

no one else
has such the privilege as I.

--
*I awaken.
it is morning
& I am breathing,
though dripping in our blood.
366 · May 2014
your maundering.
-D May 2014
bushes,
you've beaten about them &
smoke,
you've blown--

you've circled your fist a few times to get to your
thumb &
you've tiptoed around&around;&around--;

[stutters&wells;&whatdoYOUthinks;&um;/um/umms--]

but the answer is still in the mist
of unnecessary cocktails &
dawdling moments,
misplaced emotions--

I'm just as confused as you,
& the mixtapes you've made
just won't do
this time--

because music can speak louder than words,
[if your words cannot be found in the first place];
but you've been searching for them
half as long as you've been searching for something else--

--that is--
                                                            ­                              --yourself.

**for just because I have found you,
doesn't mean that you have just yet.
i can hear the backburner sizzling, calling my name.
322 · May 2014
submerged.
-D May 2014
there is a chasm in my chest,
occasionally,
when the earth feels too dense with hate
& when I begin to drown in it--

it takes my breath away.

I stop,
pull the moment back for a time,
remind myself that this,
this,
is fleeting.

in
     out
            close your eyes
                      listen.

*this is not permanent.

                                       nothing truly is

                                                                         but truth.
268 · Nov 2016
hope.
-D Nov 2016
---
I pray you didn’t catch me looking
at your hands as they worked in the kitchen.
---
you were there, too,
but it was your hands that captured my attention.
strong, calloused hands.
never did I ever think that peeling potatoes
could be so interesting,
or so attractive.
---
your chest was there, also
barely clad in a thin white t-shirt;
a small key around your neck
bounced on it,
tumbling around as though
on a glistening trampoline.
---
hope,
the key said,
both engraved in its metal
& in its words to me.
---
moments passed at dinner that evening,
& as I found myself again & again
praying that your arm would graze my shoulder,
I couldn’t help but wonder
how much hope I could bear to
keep holding on to.
---
dinner came and went,
but my gaze on you never wavered.
I found myself both not hungry
& ravenous
as the entrees were served.
---
could your smile be any brighter?
or your eyes more soft?
eyes of velvet shine
& I am mesmerized.
---
as dinner passed & it grew time to clear the table,
you stood to clean up.
I closed my eyes & prayed for your touch.
behold, at the smallest graze
of your wrist on the back of my neck,
my heart fluttered,
& you dropped my dishes.
---
I sit here, the day after
still contemplating these small moments,
both cursing
& understanding
that you are not doing the same.
yet,
my heart still beats,
h —
o —
p —
e —
when will you serve dessert?
231 · Aug 2017
portrait of pain
-D Aug 2017
your name is deceit,
and your colours and blue and black,
and i paint them from day to night,
long, thin strokes

you escape in time
to avoid the crash,
vehicles colliding at 90 mph,
and you escape without a scratch
m--
207 · Aug 2017
august, with caveats
-D Aug 2017
you are my treasured pain—
and i am your inebriation secret joy

the wonders of it all,
over whiskey and wonderland talk
so wistful and gay

playing dress up for faux first dates
and dancing around inevitability

but i was her in black and red,
with joy and caveats to hold at night

and you were the boy with the velvet voice,
so quiet at day, but bold in the evening tides

how we walked this far
on such rough terrain,
with a third hand in mine,
i’ll never know.

i trip and fall down the coastline,
allowing for bumps and bruises
along my blushed face and jawline

you were not magnificent,
only marred,
with tattered tales of torment and your demise

but the demise was mine instead,
all for the taste of a secret wine

and we became the last of the great faux pas
and I became a dissection at my desk
again

your words are meaning to you,
but we crumple them and
spit on your intentions,
which until then were never seen
out of your mouth

i’ll never know how you tasted,
but i know
how it tastes
to never have you.

and you’ll not hold me in wintertime
below the shadows of december,
but you’ll hold on to the fragments
of Almost
and Settling
until you pass.
m--

— The End —