The sunset slowly dies and
I collapse into your bed
breathing in the echoes of your scent
this extinct perfume I'll never know again
hands groping for any remnant of warmth you left behind.
The pillows miss your precious headweight
and I sleep in tear-choked sorrow, grasping to a slowly fleeting
memory of you.

Endless oceans separate the space between my ears—
How I wish you sailed in them still.
All I hear now is the distant sirens’ song—
they beckon me to heed their call.
But I know their voices aren't your own.
I could spend sleepless nights searching these waters
until I found a trace of you,
a ghost, nothing but a memory
that forever left its imprint
on this ever-aching heart.

It's on days like this where

I listen to music more then I talk to people
Have headphones
And a lack of conversation at the dinner table

I wonder if I cut out my tongue
And boarded up my mouth
where would the poetry come from?

Would my brain be a constant flicker of words and rhythms
Would I attempt to scream every night
Inaudibly
Where would the poems go?
Would they bleed out of my ears and my nose
Would they make one with my tears
And if they did would I be in a state of constant crying
And bleeding
And dying

But my biggest fear

Is what if the words left completely
What if they no longer poured over me
Baptized me
In a world of hope

Of myself that I have not yet
But know will one day accept

Would you be cleansed
Of me

rivers of hope would flow down your cheeks

How
Would I show love
Without my words?

And when she told me
That she did not agree
Would my body just stay numb
Holding back words-
I mean tears
While she talked about us sinners

On the days I want to take a vow of silence I remember keeping my heartbeat steady as I looked her in the eye and said
It is not our job for judgment
When you preach hate where are you leading them?

Because God is love
And love is love

She would remain unchanged
She would never know the percentage of lgbt+ youth at risk for suicide
Or those who have already tried
Or whose parents have disowned them

So I preach

I preach love and acceptance

Because God is love
And love is love
And my love is my

words

So no
I will not be silent
Because I refuse my niece and nephews to live with a mother so hateful
to grow into a world that is unchanged
Because of people like me

Who once believed silence

*was even an option

There is a story to tell.
I met a person.
There is much to tell.
Choked up emotions.

The person listens.
Reads my stories too.
Not only the intro,
but the whole thing through.

Tells me I am great,
when I know the truth.
This has to be fate.
Because it soothes.

Positive and,
Appreciates.
Hard work, effort.
Invigorates.

The person fills,
me with words.
When I am lost,
and I am slurred.

Hair so curly,
Maybe straight.
Not sure, did
not speculate.

Eyes brown,
maybe blue.
Come to think of it,
it is you.

I woke up late at night
and I went into the room
I made the sacred gesture
as I entered in the tomb  
Well, it gets colder everyday
Perhaps I'll be there soon to stay

I woke up late at night
and I hadn't put it down
I knew somehow I'd fallen
but, I hadn't hit the ground
Well, it gets darker every night
The next may never bow to light

I woke up late in life
much maturer then I cared
I've known the answers and the problems
but the truth for once was dared.
Well, it gets easier every year.
You have to lean to live with fear

Mister Blister, there he goes!
His shoes, they open for his toes.
His jacket has no sleeves at all.
His trousers, well, they just might fall.

He is a coarse and hairy sight.
He limps and dares not stand upright.
He has a shopping cart to push.
His bathroom is the nearest bush.

People yell and call him names,
and talk about the way he shames,
the neighborhood, and those who "care"
about the world they say we share.

But, Mister Blister is my friend.
He always has some time to spend.
He cares about what I say,
and remembers this from day to day.

He knows about my cares and fears
and what I try to say he hears.
Perhaps the others are too old
to see without life's blindfold.

I wish that he could freely live
and that the town, he could forgive.
They just don't know you like I do.
Mister Blister, I'm glad I do.