you told me that you were
just playing it safe,
careful to keep your perfectly powdered face from grime
and getting dirt under your manicured nails.
you try to maintain that posture with poise and grace,
while others break their backs and crawl
on the ground on their knees and bellies.

you told me 
that you are playing nice.
you said that you are loving, caring, kind, and generous
and all those pretty qualities.
that's true,
but 
one glance at your eyes 
is enough to know fully that 
you are also
fearful and terrified.
you are a coward:
a prisoner of pride
playing god as you place your trust on yourself.
taunted by questions of  rejection, ability, and sufficiency,
you cowered in your high tower
instead of joining the frontlines in the fight.
frozen by fear
your heart has gone too numb and cold, for
the doubt and anxiety has put out your fire.

you said that you have won it all.
but actually, 
you know nothing.
nothing!
about triumph and victory 
for though the world has plunged into calamity,
you were never one with the army.
your bright eyes has seen death
but only from the sidelines.
you defile the purpose of your armor
by keeping it perfectly polished
when it is meant to be stained by mud and blood.

you told me that you were just playing it smart.
you said that it's only rational, logical, 
the normal human response
to take every measure to avoid pain and harm.
you behold the chaos
and cry 
"they are fools!"
and
you are 
perfectly
right.
they made themselves
into proud and shameless fools
for they know well that 
the fools are the ones chosen to shame the wise.

darling, 
just
stop
playing it nice, safe, an smart
for this is not a game,
this is 
war.
strip off the crown and ball gown and
pick up your sword and armor.
from your high tower,
run
to the mountains and fields
to the homes and cities
run
to the trenches and frontlines.
for it's either you lose your self or lose the fight

soldier,
warrior,
get ready to pour out sweat, tears, 
and even blood.
though you have yet to see
still,
claim victory:
the war has already been won
before it has even begun.

*it is
done.

I think to be thoughtful
I speak to be heard
I write to decipher
The truth in my words.

I smiled to ensnare you
I laughed to secure
You slipped through the trap
That I built to procure

I kissed to consume you
I hugged to enfold
My arms close on nothing
You're no where to hold

I writhed to entrance you
I clutched you to keep*
Now the place where I hold you
Resides in my dreams.

I write so you'll read this
My hand pens the truth
All that I've written,
I've written for you.

You could illuminate as bright as the North Star
but you're settling for a shine as insignificant as
a street light in a crowded city.

You ran thinking it was with freedom
But really you just ran away from everyone who ever loved you
Cursing every hand that tried to pull you from the dark abyss
Ignoring every word that came to comfort you and give you light
You ran and you ran and you ran
Out of breath, stumbling, crying, gasping through the shards of your chest
Because you think, "Surely this pain is better than pausing to feel the emptiness."
But when you stop running, your brokenness will still be there
And you will be so far away from anyone who knew how to fix you

Don’t love me.
Please, don’t love me.
I know myself, we’re quite close actually, and let me tell you, you don’t want to fall for her,
you don’t want that girl, I hate her.
I hate her because I know her so well and I know how horrible the truth can smell.
Don’t love me, because even I know to hate myself,
the vanity that despite this loathing I might actually believe that someone could fall for me.
Don’t love me.
Don’t love me, because I met Heartbreak once and she left me gasping for air
and I will never meet her again.
I refuse, so if you love me, please be aware that when you do,
some day I am going to leave you, battered and bruised, because
twisted self-preservation has taught me all the tricks to keep myself afloat by drowning you.
Don’t love me.
Because as much as I will love you, I’m not friends with Commitment,
and whenever I see him on the horizon I set off running in the opposing direction.
I will treat you like there will be no oxygen unless I’m holding you,
but when you’re the one reaching for my hand I’ll become the wind.
Commitment is not my friend, I said, but no one listens.
Don’t love me, because I am a tornado, a storm to chase until I’ve taken everything from you.
Don’t love me.
Someday, you will be married and happy, and I will
whirl back into your life like the hurricane that has never been named after me, and
you will believe that all your scars
and your broken heart
have healed enough that you can run with me.
But I have razors between my fingers and wedged in my teeth,
and your scabbed over heartstrings will be powerless against me.
I am an expert at running, at hurting, at ‘maybe’s.
Don’t love me.
When you ask me for something more,
I will tell you that I am not ready, because I never will be.
Chances scare me, and trusting someone so much will always be risky.
I will tell you that I am not in the right place for your Commitment,
for your future Heartbreak,
and you will tell me that you understand but you’ll stick with me,
and fire will consume everything.
Don’t love me.
I can’t even go a few years with a friendship before
burning it all for at least a few evenings, but we’ll always rebuild the
rickety ashes of the bridges we’ve passed.
Don’t love me.
I’m only saying it for your safety.

Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wings on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well.
Larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that he fell back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.

I saw a lion in the sky
His head was shining over mine
The moon was lighting up my room
And made me feel safe for a while
He smiled, I laughed
Then I stood up to reach my window and see why
The clouds made him alive like a dream
Like a fearless king rising in the night.

the moon through the tree
peeking through like a ******
shining full on naked bodies
staring back at her
the illusion of division
everywhere the center of her
smoke and bare dimness
where did the moon go
time doesn't quite stop here
but don't look past your self too far
it is here and now

the balance of fools
the boldness of orange stripes
the old lion moon rises
the flight of hawks
above clouds and thought and fear
outside the game
writing the subscript
taking the leap
the lion's head opens
sand and soul
warm smiles and beauty
i can see where the moon is going now