We'll meet in our life's afternoon
As the morning's all but gone
Lessons learned, small scars, big tears,
but no regrets at all

I'll share the bread and wine I've brought
Half or more, I have enough
I built small castles 'long the way
Money and its comforts
this time easily they came

I'll be merely who I am
I stopped pretending long ago,
to be something that I'm not
or caring what the critics say
When writing of me in the times

And so I'll meet you free and clear
Mind and body, both are sound
Thanks to yoga, and reflection
About life's meaning and that of love
One and the same they seem to be

Please don't rush; I will be here
Take care to learn your lessons well
Arrive too soon and you'll still be searching
For the self you've yet to find

How lovely though that day will be
And all they days from then till night
Walking hand in hand
No concern of other lovers
or casual friends that want us just the same

And we will have the love
that lovers always dream of
but never preserve to find
and exiting too soon
wind up miles from the spot

I'll meet you by the rising sun
And somehow will just know your name
As you will mine, and hair and eyes
While moving at the spend of sound
My lover, soon is soon enough

At first,

It’s barely an itch.

Slowly it worsens.

You drown it in wine.

It learns to swim.

You *******.

It still smolders.

It burns.

And then,

You add gasoline

And rage along side of it

Inevitability.

You took a lover

But wanted a savior

To make you whole.

To complete you.

And when he was only a lover

You began to hate him

For not being what he never was

What you tried to make him

He couldn’t save you

Only you can.

And when you do,

you’ll be ready for a lover.

One that’s already saved himself

Instead of two halves

You’ll be two wholes

Through which light will shine

Gripping tightly, my left hand ‘round the sharp blade of a knife
while gently caressing your hair with the other

I’ve tried so hard to hold on to you without losing myself

I’ve twisted and turned reality, railing against the tide
desperately searching for a way
a way to make something not what it actually is
like an alchemist off the rails, high on vapor

And yet finally, with the futility of it all sublimely amusing
the pain finally searing beyond my ability to tolerate,
I must finally come to terms with the meaning of goodbye

Not goodbye as in ‘maybe someday’
or goodbye as in ‘until we meet again’
Goodbye with a capital G, with finality, with certainty

And not the first goodbye, or one of many, rather
The last goodbye, the one from which there is no return trip

I loved you as best I could, and with abandon
But in the end, I must choose myself

I must choose my own life, and if that means killing
the fetus of our metaphoric future, then so be it

There can be nothing left.  Scorched earth.  
No glimmer of hope, not a grain of sand
We aren’t tragic heroes, we’re just tragic

I won’t turn back as I walk away,
even so briefly, to look in your direction

I won’t unintentionally find my way
onto your street for an accidental encounter
I won’t consciously unconsciously keep you hanging
to ease my fear

Find a lover or don’t
Find another, don’t
Either way I choose me this time, for the first time. Ever.

Not just good day sir,

Goodbye

If yesterday were your last
And today you were at rest
You’d no longer have to worry
About how you looked in the picture
that your sister took while you weren’t looking
Or whether or not your neighbors dog continued to bark after six
You’d forgive your ex for the mistakes you both made
along with your daughter for running away with that Alex

Yet if there were enough magic left in the night
to give you one more tomorrow

You wouldn’t worry about your broken heart
Or your net worth

You’d probably just sit among the lilies
struck by the beauty of the sun
And for the first time realize,
just how beautiful the world is

So why then won’t you please do that while you’re alive

But I love him.

Yet you are so unhappy.

But I love him.

Yet you cry all the time.

But I love him.

Yet you miss so many flowers in your path, lost in sadness.

But I love him.

Yet you don’t feel loved.

But I love him.

Yet you don’t feel fulfilled.

But I love him.

Tell me, what does love mean to you?

To need someone so much.

Need and love are not the same.

To want to be with someone all the time.

That is not love, that is desire.

To want them so badly, naked in my arms.

That is not love, that is attraction.

To miss someone so much.

That is not love, that is loneliness.

To get so angry thinking of them with someone else.

That is not love, that is jealousy.

To know that this is the only person that can make me happy.

And yet you are not happy.

To feel so afraid of losing someone.

That is not love, that is fear.

Then what is love?

Love is wanting what’s best for another, even if that is not being with you.

I do not feel that way, I want him with me.

Love is an appreciation for someone as they are with no need or desire to change them.

I do not feel that way, there are things he should change.

Love is an open, brilliant energy that transcends time, that is present always and that needs nothing in return.

I don’t have that for him.

Perhaps you are not in love.

It seems that I am not.

What are you then?

I am in need, I am afraid, I am lonely and I'm directing it at him.

And?

And so it is not love.

Are you sure?

Yes.  Now I am. Quite.

Then, your journey can begin.

It doesn't happen very often any more
But at times
The darkness calls
And I, feeling pulled
Betray my better self in favor of
A temporary respite from the loneliness.  
And though the path I'm on isn't perfectly straight, it's perfectly imperfect in all its human messiness

And it's beautiful, for all of our madness comes
from within, as so does our exquisiteness.

If darkness calls on you, and you find yourself
Unable to resist, I will love you just the same
in the morning, as we are more brothers, lovers, sisters than we are distant cousins.  

And you are not the darkness
You are not the pain
You're the seer and the seen
And it's not always easy
to refuse the mad hatter's offer for tea

Dearest,

It seems the front is more dangerous in these waning days of spring and talks of peace were premature; I know yet not when I'll return

I long for moments under the two-trunk oak near farmer's bend where we spent many an afternoon.
And I'm embarrassed to say that I've thought of having taken your dress up above your waist on more than one occasion to distract myself from mortar rounds and far away cries in the darkness

Tomorrow it seems we are going to see the worst of it, at least that's what I've heard, though rumors, like ghosts, dance among the battlefields so I can't be certain

Dearest, I've loved you since you were eight years old, wearing your sister's shoes two sizes bigger than you feet could fill and freckles from cheek to cheek and I love you ever more still each day

I've not heard from you in so very long, the silence is nearly unbearable, though the mail has been unpredictable and I fight to stay positive.  I pray these words reach your eyes  with haste and this kiss your lips without.

Ever yours,