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sometimes my words carry me away
and there is nothing left to do but fall
in a beautiful entanglement
of color
splattered on a ready canvas
undaunted by the wild array
of disastrous beauty-
chaotic portraits
reaching astronomical heights
like the constellations formed with the breath of stars
what if she tipped over
would you still say you loved her
what if every time you looked her in the eye she cried
if you saw the real her with the scars on her thighs
would it make a difference if you tried
to look her in the eyes?
it’s strange to think
you will only remember me
as the person i was with you

you’ll never learn of my new habits,
nor will i ever come to know yours
i won’t get to watch you grow,
see you become strong,
hear about all of your new
adventures and revelations

no, i am only left
with who you were

we’re both frozen in time
in each others’ memories
written on 10/3/13
The surroundings of home, centers, neighorhood
which I see and where I walk; for years and years.

I have created you in joy and in sorrows:
with so many circumstances, with so many things.

And you have become all feeling, for me.
BECAUSE I have called to you
as the flame flamingo calls,
or the want of a spotted hawk
is called-
  because in the dusk
the warblers shoot the running
waters of short songs to the
homecoming warblers-
  because
the cry here is wing to wing
and song to song-
  
  I am waiting,
waiting with the flame flamingo,
the spotted hawk, the running water
warbler-
  waiting for you.
I am sorry.
I want everyone to know that this is no one's fault.
If anyone were to blame, it would be the universe herself,
and even that seems unfair.
She is trying to survive, just like the rest of us.
I am not sure where I will go now.
Whether it will be pearly gates
or eternal sleep
or a fire place
I am unsure,
but it is worth the risk to escape this reality.
I remember my mom holding me as I sobbed
because my best friend had been ***** and I did not save her.
My mother whispered like a lullaby into my ear,
there was nothing you could have done.
As if the fact that horrible things happen to innocent people
and there is no way to stop it
should come as a comfort to me.
I realize that this is just how life is
and if everyone else can live with it then I should be able to, too,
but I cannot seem to keep myself from trying to rescue everyone.
I am throwing myself into the ocean to resuscitate those seen drowning,
I am being swept out by the tide,
gagged by the salt water,
pulled beneath the surface by the ones I am trying to hold up.
Maybe I am weak.
Maybe I am too dense to fight the pull of gravity.
Maybe gravity will finally get what it wants
when I, in my brown box, am lowered as deep as this life can take me.
My spine is no longer strong enough to withstand this pressure.
I am breaking.
I am leaving.
I am gone.
I am sorry.
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