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You have always found a way
to inflate yourself,
a thunderhead of you
a rainer upon parades
keeping your own side dry.

Praise your portolio,
record yourself accomplishing that,
but wait, there’s more of you
the lost boy
dressed as a hero.

The prison of ego comes first,
then the crippling psychic wounds
and the inevitable chaos
that just ****** you off
because there is just too much to manage
and you cannot do it alone
but you don’t dare tell anyone
so you fake it
and you don’t make it
and one day
while you are too busy
refusing to be grateful
for the awesome mystery of your own chi
a tagger defaces your BMW
in the parking lot of Whole Foods
and you weep into your tofu.
The trees
Behind the checkered screen
Of my window
Are silhouetted skeletons
Against a black and white
Cotton candy sky.
And limp dangling pieces of flesh
Cling to the bones
Refusing release.
Exhale your emotions
onto all of our memories
waxing as poetic candles,
rub your feelings all over me.
While vague unexpected hours
root deeply
and mingle inside all they see.

I can hear our laughter lingering
when night stands on the waters
of our love,
never growing tired or flickering.  
Following close behind
the heels of my heart
never leaving..........
or wandering.

We have been given a life
that comes after midnight,
guiding us,
letting no poison command our faith.  
I smile,
in knowing our love
will grow stronger,
as each day passes away.
Copyright @2013 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
When the last memory says
I have to remember
all the layers that whisper in these rooms.  
My fingers become blind
to the passing warmth of years
my lips have forgotten
way too soon.

I always knew
the rambling name
of the nights when I smiled
at the voices of the stars.  
This is when I felt the air lingering
inside of a time
when I knew I could stand
where you are.

Faded hours fall
from my childhood scars
like solemn words set fire in streams
to all I speak.  
Still, I accept your arms
and give you all my love,
knowing.......
no breath of mine will sleep.

A knowing is left
like a sound subdued in my ear,  
and I savor the notion
that your words lie underneath.  
I read each line
one more time....until,
the end of us
is a tear
I'll never weep.
Copyright @2013 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm

— The End —