You’re six feet tall and more feet apart
from anyone you claim to be close to.
Struggling to breathe and a defunct heart,
in denial of prophecy; inevitably it came true.

You didn’t even pretend you ever cared for me,
we both know we’re not the ones you wanted to see.
If only you could realize what was important in life,
maybe you wouldn’t face the close in strife.
If only you could realize what this was all about,
maybe your funeral wouldn’t be cardboard cut outs.
In your last breath of air,
was there regret or despair?

It’s the ones that you don’t peg for depth
that seem to never be fully understood.
I’ve watched how easily they’ve wept,
and immediately reverted back to wood.

You didn’t even pretend you ever cared for me,
couldn’t care less; we’re supposed to be family.
If only you could realize what was important in life,
then you wouldn’t have replaced your kids and wife.
If only you could look back on all those years,
maybe you’d hold your kids instead of your beers.

No invite for dining with the dead,
no faking pleasantries unpleasantly.
Breaking promises along with the bread,
and never present even presently.
No invite for dining with the dead,
ignoring a mess while eating messily.
Smelling copper while tasting lead,
feeling separated both separately.

In your last breath of air,
did you notice we weren’t there?
In your last breath of air,
did you start to care?

No invite for dining with the dead,
no faking pleasantries unpleasantly.
Ignoring last call and ignoring bed,
my mental exhaustion is kicking in mentally.
No invite for dining with the dead,
ignoring a mess while eating messily.
The scene will remain within my head,
and my refusal to be desperate has grown desperately.

Lying in your arms,
the light bouncing off your skin.
Pressing snooze on all my alarms,
Baby, we should be sleeping in.
Only you can gift the sun
and together we bask in the rain.
You’re naturally my only one,
you effortlessly exist and heal all my pain.

I wish to free up more space
for you; forever in my mind,
‘cause it’s such a messy place,
I don’t want you ever to be confined.
I want to write calligraphy on your skin,
illustrate every word I want to write for you.
Sail my fingertips up, down, around, out and in,
and on your gentle curves I’ll follow the map I drew.

You’ve got the eyes of the stars,
and your lips; as crucial as the air.
Combined warmth of the Sun and Mars,
and a heart of gold, but more valuable and more rare.
Only you can make a void gleam,
I’ve never loved anyone as I love you.
Darling, you’ve always been my dream,
and God, did my dream come true.

I wish to free up more space
for you; forever in my mind,
to memorize each feature of your face,
a more beautiful sight you’ll never find.
I want to write calligraphy on your skin,
illustrate every word I want to write for you,
and when I finish, again I’ll begin,
‘cause each and every time it still feels new.

Her sparkling shooting star eyes
stripped and read down to my soul,
I wonder how did she find a prize,
in what once felt like an engulfing hole?
Our thoughts meet eachother
and dance up in that invisible air.
Just us two, never another,
and I am already waiting there.

I wish to free up more space
for you; forever in my mind.
Any other thought feels like a waste,
another view and I might aswell be blind.
I want to write calligraphy on your skin,
illustrate every word I want to write for you.
Trail my fingertips to trace, caress, drag and spin,
deciphering each inch, fibre and clue.

I’ve got a journey to make
and I have a soul to feed.
I don’t know which path to take,
but I’ll walk on even when my feet bleed.
The backdrop of my surrounding
blends and blurs to a perfect grey,
out of breath and my heart is pounding,
when I arrive I just hope I can stay.

Life is not one single race
don’t expel your energy just to run,
but always find something to chase
as tomorrow is promised to no one.

I’ve got a journey to make
and I have a soul to feed.
Climb up hill or dragged by the lake,
no way of knowing where each will lead.
I didn’t come with a map or a plan
and I don’t hold any bags of tricks,
just the argument of a straw man,
determined to cross the River of Styx.

Life is not one single race,
just when you end, another has begun.
So strive to finish, disregard what you place,
as tomorrow is promised to no one.

I’ve got a journey to make
and I have a soul to feed.
With a sense of dread I can’t shake,
doubt and worry sure like to breed.
If I was lost would I even know?
And if I did, would I admit it?
I’ll be carried by the wind’s blow,
but she’s always been my path, no one could split it.

Life is not one single race,
it’s crucial to always find the fun.
You’ll learn to lose, but lose with grace,
still tomorrow is promised to no one.

I’ve got a journey to make
and I have a soul to feed.
To this point I have yet to break,
in-fact I found and planted a seed.
Gifted another soul to share the skies,
now I know warmth and feel that all’s okay,
and the breathless beauty that shines in my eyes
reassured me without a doubt, this is the right way.

Life is not one single race,
it’s enjoying each second under the sun.
Sharing your heart, mind, soul and space
and my tomorrow is promised to only one.

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.