We keep getting hurt,

You and I ,

      I and We,

   We and You,

You and me,

Constant fighting,
These sparks aren't igniting,
Those logs aren't burning,
Neither of the flames yearning.

    So read this note,

From Me to You,

Whose hand is holding the lighter underwater?

       Hold this note,
And don't respond or quote,
Unless you plan to write,
Words that might,

Bring

    *You to Me.

you are not poolside. you've wandered off; and left behind your passport.
i have someplace to be and nowhere to go -
we could hook up at the pier
and tell ghost stories
to ghosts we know.
i suspect you might be lurking in dark groves with dumb luck.
but i don't know how you mean
from this long view.
i just know
you.

or some-such.

Falling down
Again, it seems
Like no one
Listens anymore.
It feels like
No one's there, everyone's just...
Gone.

Downward spiral leading me to an
Open vein in my life.
Wondering why I could
Never stop sooner.

At last, when all the smoke clears.
Night turns to
Daylight.

Good morning, is
Everything I needed
To hear.
Today,
I** start myself over again.
Not going to
Get beaten down so easily anymore, because...

Up there, I know you're watching me, and it's you, who
Pulls me back together when I fall apart.

A poem falls short; I'd like, instead
to draw a single line from me to you
and watch it curl into a word
so beautiful it's still unsaid –
or press paper to the window pane
so that the day might saturate
a note that brightly warms your hands,
spills birdsong from imagined trees
and buzzes like fat bumblebees,
but I am bound by language, love; I can't.