His heart was old and wounded and scared
It had been broken and bruised
and burned until there was not even ash left
It had dreamt and lost and cried more tears than stars in the sky and prayed to never fall again
To never feel empty and absent
or miserable and abused
and for the death it felt inside to be its quite and final resting place
It clung desperately to the want of never
And then there was her
And colors pulsed in its blood
And dreams were painted on its walls
And her name burned into its skin
Then his heart beat as if it was just taking in its first breath
And all of its cracks and scars and bruises faded and it couldn't remember shedding a single tear or ever having been broken
And the beauty of love was found again
In the soft curves of her smile and the magic of the colors swirling in her eyes
And nothing else mattered
Nothing but her

When I fell in love for the first time
She became my world
But more than that she become a part of me
She was my lungs
She kept me breathing
And cut my air supply as she pleased
And when we broke up I couldn't breathe

I gasped for air on my own for the first time in forever
But nothing came
Clawing at my chest as the pain grew stronger
Begging for air to return
But she was gone
and I felt suffocated for years

Slowly I learned to breathe on my own again
Forcing the air into my body
Often against the wishes of my newly independent *****

When my new love came along
I still struggled at times but I knew I could never trust another with that kind of power ever again
So when it feels as though I do not love her as much as the first
I have to remind myself that although she helps me breathe easy
I've never let myself rely on her so severely as my first
I could never make that mistake again
Because I know that losing a part of me again
Will take all the strength I have left
And none will remain to live

isn't it time

for penitence?

I just forget everything

and don't talk to anyone

except for you, dear Lord, you are my ball and chain

having died and come back again I get to look back
watching old movies of myself,
sleeping last night off, leg twitching
dreaming of moving along a motorcade of immanent death

one by one getting flat tires, running out of gas, suddenly the battery
dies

I get out of the car, look around, and see, to my surprise

a loved one's love looking back at me, twisting in the wind, empty, alone, drunk,
its my father or mother lifting my brother or sister from the back seat to the front, carelessly driving, ceaselessly swerving

towards the waterway

if it wasn't for the guardrail,  we'd all be dead

time is a ritual now, and it hurts to come back to life, to feed the living,
to get dressed in day-old church clothes, to hit back, as one sneers at being sneered at, I pick up the Daily and skim the headlines, Lost and All Alone, A Stranger Takes a Dive, toss the rag and head to work, fixing to lie to my boss about being sick, about tasting olives, about who I am.

The heated metal from the kettle steams the rebel in me.  The panic planted will vanish after a mindful pouring of tea.  Lets replace our hazardous waste with a serene moment of peace.  Funny the way honey laced stardust grace tastes - bringing about a face to please.
.
..
...
....
..... And release.....
....
...
..
.
 All of the tension fear and grief.
Stop with the constant judging of self by day of week
Start seeing the Synchronicities in and out of dreams
Visualize&Recognize; how to be still like trees,
Mighty yet stay playing with the rain and the breeze
Understand there is growth in what has been deemed defeat.
So let's bloom with groovy tunes and ascend above the streets.
Zoom into the moon reflectIng light with ease
Thank you for all your time sharing the air to breathe.
Hearts connected to the rhythm where we are beautifully free~

Untold stories, unheard,
Told stories not understood,
Love felt less, laws overrated,
Skies seen, touched ground more,
Made less roads, followed more,
Thought less, views outstanded.

In The lonely aimless road of mine,
A stranger, showed me another way,
Lovely as The Moon herself,
Eyes distant as the road itself,
Hair as the dancing corn fields,
Took my hands and strolled yet,
I was never a good walker I guess.
My unspoken words, or the
Un cried tears, She never heard.

Fingers distancing themselves,
A hand, starting to let go,
The Moon thats setting,
The corn fields losing colour,
The road cracking, huh!
A tear to fall and vaporize.
Head to be pulled straight,
to be Looked back never again,

Though at the end of my roads,
I will rest on a ***** muds,
Hoping the same stranger to
Kiss me a rebirth, The painter
of the cornfields, the craftsman
who would make more roads
for both of us to walk once more...