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Delete me from this life, oh please.
Borrow time,
acquire it from me,
Just press the top, far right key.

Delete me right off the page, oh please.
Carry forward in place of prime,  
forsake a single division towards normalcy,
acquitted free.

Delete me from this sentence now.
To let me stay would be a crime,
staying here stationary,
atop, alone, and windy.
Oh please.
                                                         ­                                                *Erase me.
Needs revision.
© copy right protected
glass monkey
on a shelf
he
threw
the first
stone
Speaking of my ex-husband who put me on a pedestal, wanted me to perform/be a person I didn't want to be.  I tried hard to be.  I felt like I wore a mask on the outside and was another person on the inside.  He was abusive and I could do no right in his eyes.
 Mar 2013 Michael Valentine
JM
the stubborn silence of mountains.

You are earthen. I am fluid.

As my soft May rain
kisses the willow's leaves
before falling into your warm soil,
the sweet breath of spring
and new beginnings soothes our tired, wintry pains.

The water feeds the root.

My head upon your chest,
a cloud filled lake on a patient mountain.

Memories of our moments,
rocks on a riverbed,
worn smooth and beautiful by time and silt.

Your lava burns a path,
a fertile home
where future fields of wheat will see no tears,
before finally,
with a fiery sigh,
you come to rest in the salt of my ocean.

The ancient root drinks the timeless water.

The mountains nap. The oceans breathe.

A moment,
a look,
a hand on a leg becomes
a small stone of your love
skipped once,
twice,
threefourfive times
before settling to the bottom
among a thousand other memories
polished smooth.

The willow branches caress the shore.
The lake rests in the mountains embrace.
Rain and roots, earthworms.

At last, at last.
Originally posted May 1, 2012
 Mar 2013 Michael Valentine
JM
You are going to die
before me.

I already know this.

You are going to get fat
and go completely blind
and probably,
eventually, they will
cut some parts off.

You are going to fall apart
in front of me.

I know this.

I still choose to stay.
I will be there
through all the appointments,
the stickings and pokings and cuttings and bleedings.

I have only wiped
a few *****
in my life.
Mine,
my son's,
a few babies
of friends.

I already plan on wiping yours
when you cannot.

I will draw
little sugar skulls
on your prosthetic feet.

I will make sure you always have enough medicine and it is always refrigerated.
I will help you
in and out
of the bathtub.
I will massage your legs
and arms
and back
and head
and neck,

every day.

I will make our boys breakfast
and walk the dogs
and make sure everything
goes back in the
same exact spot
and keep a file with all the pertinent medical information
so I can fill out all the paperwork.

I will take you to
all those folk rock shows you love so much
and describe the singers to you.

We will still garden together.
I can see you in a chair,
barking out questions
about our harvest and me,
going back and forth,
bringing you the biggest squash
to hold.

You see, I have given up thinking
I am ever going to
give myself to anyone else.

It is you and you alone.

So, when you start to fall apart,
and you will fall apart,
don't worry baby.
I am going to be there to wipe your ***.
Originally posted May 28, 2012
 Mar 2013 Michael Valentine
JM
As long as you breathe, I will inhale you.

And after you are finished breathing,
when you have uttered your final words,
I will speak your sacred name in my throat.

I will  visit your grave perhaps once,perhaps often, not to say goodbye,
but to cry and laugh with you.

I will keep your memory alive in my bowels that held your love,
in my mouth that kissed your brow,glistening with sweat.
in the soles of my feet that  walked next to you in the market,
in the tips of my fingers that caressed your hair out of your eyes so many
times,
in my nose that captured your ever changing, ever lovely essence,
in my tongue, that called your name during our volcanic passions.

I will have your love in me still,
kiss your brow, always,
walk with you, forever,
sweep your hair, eternally,
smell you, endlessly,
and speak your name until the end of my days,
when                  is the last word that crosses my lips.

I will never love another.
Originally posted March 7, 2012
have you ever seen
a true face
in grace and honesty so similar to those
you saw in dreams at night

and has it dawned to you already
that this face is more faithful
than any of your words could be

despair not
and keep looking into those eyes
and fear not:

the wordless truth
of silent singleheartedness.
He began by taking samples
Little things at first
A photograph of summer freckles
A strand of hair
Fingernail clippings
And my favorite polish
Turquoise and caicos
Footprints
On the bathroom floor
Nothing I would notice
Nothing I would miss
And then he went bigger
My lips concealed
In his underwear drawer
My fingers and toes
Still painted
Stuck in the yogurt
The peanut butter
Full of ears, a nose
He grew bold
With surgical precision
Moved my ribs to the fridge
Chilling
Staving off listeria
My hips he displayed prominently
Framed by the headboard of his bed
My head serving as centerpiece
For his infrequent dinner guests
Shapely legs holding up the table
And believe me
THEY ARE THE SHAPLIEST
Arms supporting arms
New tattoos on his favorite chair
My alarm clock heart
Beating wake up
Wake up
Get out of bed
From his desk
And meaning
Nothing more than that
"I wanted you for my collection,"
He said
"You're the most extraordinary
Specimen I've ever met."
Trying to find ways to talk about it.
Always a president
Never a vice
Made of sugar and spice
Fresh herbs from your windowsill
I'm convinced if I opened you up
I'd find a smaller
Russian nesting Paula
Hiding inside
Afraid of getting hurt
Enjoying the protection layers afford
I'm convinced if I
Turned you inside out
You'd be exactly as beautiful
And classically radiant
Launching blue and auburn sparks
Into the night
A renaissance painting
Come to life
Madonna in jeans
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