I've been a construction worker
My entire adult
Life.

Still, I cannot
Seem to rebuild
Her confidence.

I've been a poet for
As long as I can
Remember,

But my encouraging
Hollow-point-words shatter
Against her insecure kevlar.

Suppose all I can be is
Sunlight, water and
Soil.

I'll try that; I've been a
Farmer's boy since
Birth.

Your words embody me and melt in such a way I lose all train of thought.

I breathe you in deeply as though you will only last a moment.

Take me, melt me, mold me to the very curve of you.

Something about the ocean that draws the most emotion out of my being.
I can stare for hours at its beauty.
The way it's never ending and unstoping maybe.
I'm so envious of its consistency and mystery.
How beautiful it sleeps and how gracious it awakes.
To be one with the sea is happiness to me.

Your words are a flame
that set me on fire.
Your touch is a river
that floods me.

Its been 3 days so far.
3 days of nothing.
I feel nothing.
I feel no sadness, no happiness,
No motivation.
I am nothing.
I feel trapped.
There is a part of me screaming to break free.
Well really I'd just like to think there is.
I'm so numb.
I want to care enough to wake up.
But I don't.
Please wake me up.

Your consistency is never ending &
your grace is unfailing.
Your presence is as promising as the morning & your light is like the moon.

I will love you for all of my days just as you have loved me.

The weight on my back has broken every bone in this body of mine.

When will this end?

When will I be strong enough to crawl out from under this bolder?

Why do I find such comfort in this shattered being?

I don't want it.
Make it end.

I only tell you because you've never asked.
I only tell you because I don't think you seem to have the slightest idea of who I am.

Would you believe me if I did tell you?

The only clothes on my body were those of my 4 year old brothers.
The only shoes on my feet were so weathered and torn I could feel the cold concrete with every step I took.
The meals on my plate were only those from the school in which I begged for seconds and dreaded the empty weekend.

Would you believe me if I told you that the only food that filled our cabinets were expired cans given from the food bank.
Dinner time meant hiding under the table, avoiding the drunken blows of Mom's new boyfriend.

Would you even believe me?
Months would go by without water or lights.
Our home was no home.
But a shelter for those who had dragged their bodies to the bed of an 8 year old girl.
My mother was no mother at all but a slave to a chemical mixture.

Would you believe me if I told you?

I fought my fight.
Through blood and tears, I fought my fight.
I chose to stand in the crashing waves against me.
I chose to stand strong with the heaviest weight resting on my shoulders, I fought.
& I won.