maybe that wasn't really me
that
drowning
sinking
feeling
or the crisp autumn air that touched my cheeks
maybe that was just--

oh
but what if it was me?
what a sweet feeling
to know that I was alive
even though I was dying
to know that I had lived
even though my last thought
my last breath
may be the ones currently occupying
that space
in which I most certainly was--

and then when it did go black
when there truly was nothing left
and my body no longer recognized
what it saw
what it felt
what it hoped
what it dreamed
yes,
when there was truly nothing left--

ahh I see
yes,
how silly to think
that it wasn't me
brushed with the feeling of wet pavement
a glimpse of the churning grey sky
on the other side
and my thoughts became so small
that the color red became irrelevant
and my skin
such a porcelain white
touched by many hands
but none were mine--

how silly really
to think
I was still alive

-h.j.-

it's so different now
it's as if that love I had for you was a candle trying to stay lit in a storm
and it was finally blown out
but I haven't any matches to light it again

to be yours would be a Sunday morning
sipping on a favorite tea
watching as everything became veiled in stillness

to have your love would be a summer night
stolen stars and kiss soaked memories
surrounded by the inevitable sunrise

but to have both
oh, to have both
that could be nothing but a dream

thrown into new understandings
given earth beneath my feet
taking what love I encounter
falling harder
never faster
I grow from unbridled, invasive flowers
seeking uncontrollable laughter
escaping the soulless sorrow
I am wild, free
but still broken

this fire
once stoked by the wood
from my undying forest
seems to be dwindling
in the crushed eyes of forgotten tomorrows
and I once thought so clear
I was a ghost in the mirror
now my loley reflection stains
my vivid recollection
and I stare not through
but at whom I
never thought I would become

tattoos
maybe on your body
mostly on your heart
I used to believe in the hope on my arm
I guess I still do, wishing for a new perspective of the word
I look down and see me
not someone people want me to be

now the cross on my wrist
sits so elegantly between my heart and my mind
these are the tattoos on my body
the ones you can touch and feel and find
I might explain the meaning
and you may trivially understand my words
but never my thoughts, the truth behind my heart
I wish you could see those tattoos  
because although the ones on my body are beautiful

at least to me

the ones on my heart are beyond anything you have ever seen
most people never know the feeling
the feeling of finding yourself
seeing who you actually are written on your own skin
I don't see ink
I see me
the person everyone else refuses to see

I find myself free falling
pulled by gravity
watching the ground slowly sneak up on me
and if I knew a way to slow my fall
maybe it would be your arms
that caught my all
but you seem disinterested
distracted by the sky
I'm just another spec of dust
something that's in abundace to find