Its something different over the sea
And deep beneath the roots of the trees
Not a smell or current in the air waves
A feeling in your bones that cries
Everything that isn’t in your blood stream
The dream that hides under your bed
And the ghost that lives in the wall
You are a sense of clarity
And suddenly her face is changing
*~W.C.

Breath of life, it is a wild ocean
always a tide coming and going
in this place, it does not linger long
never holding on, only drifts quietly into night
into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies
or in the night waters, a ghostly glow
of phosphorescence, a transient trail
of luminescence that soon
fades and reappears to light
the deepest depths
of sea

I can see the way you stare at him, Virgo,
the way your eyelashes become batwing shadows
across your flushing cheeks
when he smiles back at you

I can tell how you feel about him, Virgo,
the feeling that sets the cold stars
embellishing the velvet in your eyes
into infernos.

I can only imagine the pain you felt, Virgo,
when he packed you along like a decoration
then left you on the curb like
a Christmas tree in the New Year.

I can understand why you did it, Virgo,
when you stared down the white throat
of the pill bottle at the dim and empty
bottom of its bowels.

I can't blame you for it, dear Virgo,
anymore than I can blame myself.

You used to tell me I reminded you of a star,
that I shone the brightest in the darkness
and lit up the night for you

I tried to shine brighter
to show you the way through the night

but you did find your way
to a warm embrace of someone
more than a star

I realized, too late,
that you craved something other
than a cold light millions of lifetimes removed

I guess all you saw in me
was a glow from the past,
anyway.

I swear to you, officer,
I tell the truth.
I was the witness
to a most terrible crime.

You see,
there are people out there,
in the world
(you must have seen them before, sir)
who tend to despise themselves
simply for being who they are.

There isn't actually anything wrong with them
not anything you would see on X-ray scans
or a medical sheet
with little x's through boxes
and unreadable scribbles of tangible symptoms.

but their tears are tangible all the same.

The crime, sir,
is the fact that
sadly, no one sees
that figurative demons
can be as real as any disease.