holding back appreciation
from old stories

that don't apply

*Now

Fatigue, frustration, abandonment,
turmoil, pain, and discouragement.
All these you have experienced and more.
The stories are written in your eyes and
etched into your skin,
though most don’t see or, quite frankly,
care enough to even notice.
but I do…
I do, because I wear the same mask.
You could probably use the rescuing,
but you’re too busy being strong
to call out for help.
Or perhaps you are like Atlas,
holding the world on your shoulders.
You can’t trust just anyone
to help you bear the burden;
if somehow the world is dropped in the process,
the consequences would be catastrophic,
to say the least.
So day after day, you don your cape
and fly off to rescue the same damsel
(who thinks she is in distress)
that you rescued just days before,
while still balancing the weight
of the world.
What amazes me more than even
your strength, is your ability to
laugh in the face
of such daunting circumstances.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
your smile says confidently,
“You can try all you want,
but you can’t steal my laughter.”
Yet there is no arrogance or pride
to be found in you;
only humble confidence and
gentle compassion.
Those are the traits of a true hero.

He fishes-
with barbed question hooks.
Discarded conversation-thread
leaves me too tangled
to talk.
Too tired to care.
Exclamation marks hurt-
Long strokes do nothing to sooth.
Marble-dots scatter
to trip me up as I move.
******* the difference
between his round-mouthed-O
and mine-
A slow, steady discontent
slithers
down my spine.

I wonder what you taste like,
I can't help it.
It doesn't matter how many times our lips touch,
it's not the same.
In the morning when you make me coffee,
I wonder what it's like to be beneath your skin.
While you drink your cup,
and smile,
I secretly want to drink you,
but I smile back instead.

I've been reading your poetry lately,
wondering if it's about me.
I've been crying lately,
because I'm in love.
I've tied myself down with wishes,
all of them are about you.
I've done a lot of things,
all of them were for you.

When I wake up next to you,
it's better than any cigarette.
I try not to stare,
afraid you'll wake up.
So instead I stare at the ceiling,
the one I've memorized.
I hope the addiction isn't obvious,
although, that would make things easier.

It's hard to tell someone else's lover these kind of things,
it's inappropriate.

No matter how much I love you.

where do I fit
in a place like this?

this is where I wake up:
the next morning
everything has changed.

I had to leave for inspiration:
that's where I practiced
mind expansion.

even there, I wondered,
with my head split open
to all sides of the city,
does he see the same love in me,
that I do in him?

I didn't ever want to leave.

"let's spend our time in here forever.
if not in love, in discovery of that love.
in the end: take it with us,"
I thought these things in grids
of hand prints stretched to the ocean,
for miles I thought, but never spoke.

it hurts to learn why
we dream in silence.