I want to be profound,
But I fear I won't be around
Long enough.

Let me go,
I want to wander away from my home,
From all I've ever known,
But I am scared,
And I am scarred,
And the cold, harsh wind of reality
Burns my flesh
As it rips my wounds open again.
As I grow, I am stretched,
And I am afraid of getting tall.

Growing taller means you will hurt more when you fall.

Growing taller means you must be above what you once were,
Means seeing all that others below you cannot.

Getting taller means growing up.

I was

Keeled over
Screaming
In the garage.

I laid in there

I wished that
There was some way
You could feel
My pain,
My sorrow.

I remember thinking that

Every second
That goes by
Is another reminder
Of what I lost.

I had to

Be quiet
Because they were
Sleeping
In the other room.

I could feel my

Heart breaking
As I studied
Your face
Like I would never
See it again.

Because I knew,

Yes I knew,

That I wouldn't.

You think you can't be saved
And that no one would adore you,
That if you are wretched, you cannot be divine.

But divinity is for the gods,
Oracles could not have forseen
What you would do to me.

That every word you speak
Would be a brazen network of fire in my ears,
And every breath of yours would be an arctic storm on my skin.

I want to hold you
And trap you in the sap of these pines
Because I know you would not run,
You find beauty in the ugliest of places.

I want to lock you in a cedar box
And leave you be until you beg my name
Because I know you like the smell,
You always were more with nature than I.

I want to hang you up in a great oak
For the whole world to see
Because I know you think you're wretched,
But you're beautiful to me.

I am not a poet,
To write it I'd have to know it
I understand
That blasphemy calls
From turquoise beaches of golden sand
And canopies of mid-state oaks.
Rustling branches amidst a folly
Only I know.
And beyond there are a few roads,
Each to a different cardinal from where I stand,
A crossroads.
Could I? Should I?
Perhaps not, but why so?
Imagine my life, or what may be left of it -
with a golden love only my own,
And every star in her eyes -
Ten years, perhaps, or maybe less to spend,
It does not matter.
Oh, I can see it now.
Ocean storms in her irises
And images of the sun over a calm blue horizon.
Golden strands in her brunette hair,
Even Aphrodite would wish for.
Sweetest bells in her laugh
That every siren would **** for,
But of course she would be sweet and strong,
Kind with a lion's heart.
As I cover what's left of the small tin box,
A rustling I hear behind me.
Branches crunching and shaking, now I see it is dusk,
I look to the water below and see a fine mist above the water,
This is almost like the night she left me.
A large gust of wind blows through my hair and
Her laugh is all I hear next.
I fall, quivering, sobs shaking me as I go,
Looking up once more.
She stands, watching me from a thick brush along the shoreline,
And blows me a last kiss before my eyes close.
*Adrienne

It's been months.
I've not seen or heard from you,
And I still miss you.

Regardless of your current whereabouts,
I would still give anything.
I would drive all night just to see you for an hour.