Standing in the dark and wishing,
Wondering,
If I could vault across the treetops
Into
The glittering diamond sky.
Use the constellations
As my monkey bars
And sit among the galaxies
In that distant,
Untouchable place
Where I've always felt
Most at home.

my life isn't the one i've had for
twenty
some odd
years.

i am
remarkably
and
uncomfortably
out of control.

and when the sound of the laughter
of the people i've never known
or loved
or grown up with,
who are not
a part of my memory's photo album
but who are now
apparently
my family

is just too much

all i can seem to do is
turn my back
and talk to the lioness in the chain link fence.

The pristine
flesh
stretches unblemished and pure
over the unbroken ribs that protect
the unbroken heart
that shines like the sun
through the eyes that can still see what life is about.

And that life
with its few weeks and days and
even fewer years
has found a better way to live
than these aging hands,
this heart with the stitching scars
and limping pulse on veins and
arteries that
have long accepted the abuse that
the reality of
life
always
always
always
brings.

So tell me why I dream
of dying
as long as it's in your arms
and living
as long as it's by your side
when all you do is laugh
and look
and my heart swears it's seen you before
in a place much brighter
much higher
than this.

I want to kiss you until your lungs turn white
and you need my body's heat to seep and
fill your empty crevasses
Take your face in my hands
like they do in the movies
and with silent lips
tell you who you are
to me
Because I've never kissed anyone before
now
and with you
I want to do it right

Before he marries you.
Before it happens all over again
and I'm left sopping up the blood
with my sleeve.
Sitting on the sidewalk
and wondering
why I'd never been more close
to my
five year old self
before that fragile fluttering heart
set itself in your flower petal hands.

my head is heavy
my heart is tired
it's time to close these running eyes
and let all the difficult things
come easy

A ribbon
         of film
       imprinted with
    memories
not that far
      distant, slipping
past
    tires that spin
   so desperately
                  forward
                      that they,
                 with blinded
             intentions,
        are moving
backward,
         whirring past
                faces and forever
open arms
                     that  used
                                 to matter.