When these boots return from foreign lands
Covered with worn in dirt and desert sand
Tattered and worn down as the look in my eyes
May you be there, patiently awaiting my
Hopeful return from distant soil and raging seas
May you be there, waiting for me
My uniform faded from days under the sun on continents that are not my own
May you be there, waiting safe at home
My hands worn and rough as leather, but still as gentle as you remember
May you be there, after this long venture
Comes to a close
May you be there, you're all I long to hold
May you be there, should I ever make it home...

I remember the taste of your chapstick
original flavor plain as you were, a taste insipidly vapid
I remember everything up until our last kiss
that fades into the smoke of memories I burned with your box of letters
cut with the strings of you that had me tethered
disappointment doesn't hold a flame to the fire burning inside me now
I'd wail and cry aloud
but the ocean cares not of the downfall of man
knees dug into the sand
arms outstretched, a shameless attempt at holding the sky
as close as you once held my
body more rigid than it's fragile contents
I remember the taste of your chapstick and I never knew what that meant...

I stare at her across the bar, between the bottles covering the worn out stained oak
varnish tarnished, wood soaked
from years
of ashed out cigarettes and spilt beers
slopped spirits from over zealous cheers
she's younger than I imagined, aged as a fine wine
her eyes locked on mine
I see the solar system, galaxies
surrounding the
pupils blacker than the abyss of the outer reaches of space
a lovely contrast to the lightness of her face
I pull up a seat beside her trying to spark a conversation
on life, nature, hopes for modern civilization or even space exploration
she says "quiet now my son, patience"
you're to focused on what you're saying
without hearing what you're conveying
her hand pressed to my heart and she said 43 beats I remember
39 when you sleep, but 84 when you're tempered
I asked her the significance
she said it's all about the difference
how my world is at peace when I am asleep
but pointless rage forces the increase
this life can go no faster
and you will know no master
so focused on breaking the mold, or shattering the plaster
when we really need the subtle hand to make the cast first
she said you see me all in your own ways
I saw her as a woman, soft eyes with a caring face
for no man knows the subtle intricacies and nuances that make living worth the fight
I met god in a bar, she walked me home in the beautiful night
we spoke of love, happiness and the pursuit  of this life...

There was an unmistakable hint of stardust
when it came to our trust
among the voids and darkness the light specks came in traces
that filled the spaces
where nothing once existed prior
your eyes would search the skies and higher
trying to explain how the proximity to this fire
that burns within you, wouldn't engulf the fragments of us that remain
I'd spell your name
with the tips of my trembling fingers, against the condensation covered glass of your car's window
and when the wind blows
I'd hear your voice
beckoning me to leave
as we make believe
that all is well, blessing our wealth in time spent and crisis averted
yet no matter how you word it
these heart levees feel the pressure of a current that ten thousand dams
could not withstand
as you break the bands of affection, that once kept us close in turn
I'd see the stardust streaming from our trust, merely ashes escaping the burn...

Slowly destroyed.
Put down.
Stood up.

Every day she tried
To better herself.
But, in the end,
It was easier
To shut out and hide.

She tried to appear bona-fide.
But where her life was going -
She felt it was up to others to decide.

It’s not that she always wanted to be lead.
It’s that, when she really needed it,
No one ever heard what she said.

But when given the chance to freely express
Herself with no limit,
All the judgments she’s ever heard
Seemed to push their way into the spotlight,
Now well-lit.

Crossing paths with others
Who have done great for themselves,
She thinks,
I wonder how it brought them here,
Their trip through hell…

She needs no reminders of where she could be.
A look in the mirror
Is all she needs to see.

Even the physical scars of the past
Are evidence of
Where all these moments,
Called life,
Have taken her;
Right up to the last.