I walked into that room and saw you’re body lying there,
I barely recognized you; lacking life, muscle and hair.
I looked into your open eyes like I never did before,
and spoke looking at your face instead of averting gaze to floor.
If they asked me to identify or claim, I can’t say that I could,
I never truly knew you or felt the connection that I should.
You were given the curse of cancer,
but gifted the knowledge and time,
but did you ever even think that the answer
could be to reach out your hand to mine?
I had so much I never said,
maybe you had the same.
I’ll remain running the sentences in my head,
but never question if I should feel blame.
For a child to not know a parent is easy as night and day,
as much as I should’ve known you, you should’ve known me the same way.
Now my sister and I are the only ones here,
the only ones with your name and blood,
and it shouldn’t even be a question or fear
if we were ever truly loved.

I claimed gravity was overrated,
lately I’d rather be up than down.
Pros and cons, comparisons, versus and debated,
anchored; I do not see shackles I feel a crown.

And we are two balloons
floating high towards the sky.
Spending endless afternoons
lightly touching to electrify.
You know there isn’t one single thing
that could make me float astray,
but I’ll still ask you to hold tight to my string,
because I don’t want to drift away.

We sent declarations in the pale moon light,
trading out sentiments with each cycle and phase.
I’d agree with the statement of beauty but it was you in my sight,
and I was admiring the skin I craved to graze.

Like Don McLean, I love you so,
but the magnitude I don’t believe you’re sure,
and you must know that I’d never go,
as life before you was a series of emptiness; one giant blur.
This with you, I much prefer.

And we are two connecting minds
weaving and completing each thought.
Volunteering for finger traps and binds,
to be intertwined and fitting into eachothers slot.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that would ever keep me at bay,
as the peace and happiness you bring,
beside you is where I’m meant to lay.

And I stared into her deep warm eyes,
I’ve lost count it must’ve been for the millionth time.
I compared each shade speckle to the starry skies,
exclaiming no shock to how they still outshine.
I told her “if you want to see my heart,
I’ll break it right open for you.
Tear and pick each piece apart,
present it like a pomegranate fruit.”

And we are two corresponding souls,
drifting on a current towards eachother.
Each and every person played their roles,
to reassure us there could never be another.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that could ever drag me away,
you’re the first warm day of spring
I was always meant to stay.

Queens Loves Poets. (for Em MacKenzie)
———————————————————-

Kings love making war,
no wonder, the people,
remember well fond
their femi-mine
rulers with femi-fervor,
Queens, who loved poets.

You fear Jesus,
Adore Mary,
generosity of understanding.
because it is hard
for woman to do
cruelty,
till she has been abused
by men who thought
they were kingly by being
beknighted, unbeheaded
for now at least.

Men who invented Brandy,
in the be of night,
were stupid men,
they forgot alcohol, the
Brandy of Channing,
is not fit for manning,
for it is a
toxin, like me, like me.

No one could ever dream to have you beat
in self destruction, self pity and defeat,
it’s almost bittersweet.
But you get by, it’s you not I,
you get by with a plan to only die.
Yes you get by, with any chance to cry,
never noticing another’s sigh.

You know with all the licks you’ve been taking,
we’re both surprised that you’re still waking.
Oh and with the hits you’ll keep taking,
don’t be surprised that you’re still shaking.

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
slam our heads together; we’ll forget if not solve them.
So what’s your story you’ve got for me today?

I am no stranger to your sad tales,
though you push them right off the rails,
and my own attempt is exempt and always fails,
I’d have better luck pitching them as sales.
As you’d get by, just for a high,
only to try with your plan to die.
Yes you get by, it’s always you not I,
claiming life’s got you in it’s eye.

You know with all the kicks you’ve been taking,
it’s a wonder you’re still not breaking.
Oh and all the tricks you’ve been making,
are you shocked we think you’re faking?

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
you act the saint and cast I as the goblin.
So what’s your story, exaggerated allegory, today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
my hands are full but do you need a tissue?
I’ll say sorry, just ignore me and what I have to say.

So open up the bursting flood gate
direct the flow to where I seem to wait,
it’s truly my ears that suffer the most,
I abandoned thought not my post, though I now am late.
But you get by, and still yet defy
magnify on your plans to die.
You’ll always get by, call it a lie,
focusing on rain ignoring you’re dry.

Oh with all the trips you’ve been taking,
It’s no surprise you’ve been strongly flaking.
And with the drips and the lies that have been caking,
you can’t comprehend anyone else aching.

So let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
I’ll start a list and another separate column.
So what’s your story, for attention or glory today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
hands on your neck and checking your wrist too,
it’s mandatory and obligatory, but morally grey.

I like the way that you sing
when you think that I’m not listening,
and it’s amazing the smile you can bring,
when you do even the simplest thing.

Go on and put my heart under arrest,
and proceed with each Miranda right;
at the trial I will plead no contest,
I’m guilty of thinking of you every day and night.
No need for a jury to resolute,
as each line upon my suit,
will be the love I profess just finally brought to light.

It’s just you,
and what you do to me.
You turn the sky blue
and keep the sun shining.
I thought I couldn’t do a thing
but true love’s always lingering.
It’s just you,
you’re all that I see.

I wish to write poetry for you but I forgot my pen,
but no paper for my hands or tongue so you’re body’s perfect to lend.
Up and down I’ll write “I love you” in lines,
at very least a hundred times,
over and over again making you contort, shake and bend.

We’ve been saving the best for last
but it’s nowhere near the end,
and while time is now moving so fast
do you remember when it was the furthest from a friend?
Some measure it by slipping sands,
but sometimes matters must be forced by hands,
to correct actions of the past,
and heal wounds that couldn’t mend.

It’s just you,
and what you do to me.
You provide each foot a shoe
and hold me up walking.
I was choosing to be by myself
than fake this with someone else.
It’s just you, naturally.

My love;
you’ve told me you wish
to curl up inside my brain
and live amongst its thoughts.

But,
I am utterly convinced
that you constructed it as if
it were the great Pyramids,
and my thoughts as company;
would just be
a million copies of you.