Every line on my face
is one drawn between
myself and my
conscience, then
crossed.

Staring a hole in the
seat in front of me.
even the mornings are night
in winter,

so far from the summer nights
when the sun barely dips
below the
horizon.

finally a film of powder snow
with tire marks from
other busses whisper
Norwegian winter,

and a far deeper, crisper cold
will feel like breathing
crystal, only the hint of
firewood burning in

nearby houses lends homely
comfort to the smell of
nature against whom a layer of
clothes is the only armour

between a life lost and not.
cold fingers. nothing makes you
miss a woman like the scent of
her face; hair;

person
on
your
hands.

This is the last thing I'll let you know,
Before I say goodbye,
Before I let you go..

I forgot the reasons that brought on this end.
Wiped back the tears that I let fall.
Changed your title as my friend.
Unraveled your lies and figured it all.

I found the answers to the questions I had.
Spent all of my time trying to know you true.
It seems I, somehow, banished your bad.
I guess, it was because, I really did love you.

Now all I want, is for you to know,
Why I'm saying goodbye,
And why I'm letting you go..

I see your face through every crowd,
And within the moments you're not even there.
The silence became extremely loud.
It seems, I lost myself somewhere.

The knots in my stomach became undone.
As you continued to walk, in my mind, you grew small.
My journey backwards suddenly begun,
And I swiftly remembered it all.

The moment you had first taken hold of my hand.
Posed for a photograph with that crooked smile.
Times when, together, we would stand.
Or walk, if not even, for a single mile.

So this, my dear, I hope you know
I've said goodbye,
But I can't let you go.

I took back every single word I had ever said.
Tore out the chapters from the story of us.
Broke everything in sight, if only within my head.
Woke up one morning, and boarded that bus.

The glimmer in my eyes dimmed down slow.
I recanted the first smile that welcomed you that day.
Collected up the pieces of my heart, and decided to go.
I gave you one more look, and then turned the opposite way.

Our whisper wars in the dark
Speak louder than the stars
Shining above. Their luminosity
Brightens my skin while I
Cradle into you.
Your secrets at 3 in the morning
Burn deep into my heart and
I keep them protected behind
My ribcage.
I hold your breaths against my *******
While the rise and fall of your chest
Moves like the tide of the ocean
Against the sand of the beach.
When you begin to drown in
The moonlight of the night,
Know that I am pacing the shoreline
With my flaming candle,
Waiting for your cries from within the waves.
Please know that when the wind blows out
The flickering fire, making wishes
For happiness, that dust from dandelions
Will still be visible in the air;
No matter how crisp the water’s kisses
Are against my cheek.
And know that even in the darkness
Of our ocean, when I’m losing
My strength to tread salt,
I will always reach for you,
Both to save you and be rescued.

Breathe in my eyes
so I can lend tears to
your face.

I have nothing to cry
over, except that you
do.

I hammer will into wealth.
I harden principles,
sharpen my sense of
value.

wipe beads of sweat from
forehead and face, leaving
streaks of oil and blood upon
features

weathered by yesterday's
scolding self-loathing.
it took me nowhere.
gave me nothing.

I put chisel to the weld uniting
days past with those to come,
and divorce the need to
regret. to bang

my head against the wall of
who I once were.
the hurt I've dealt.
the stupid things a young man

can say under influence and not.
my whitest coals were the
trust I placed; the handle of my
hammer in the hands of

any authority seeming capable  
to swing it against an anvil
more often empty than not.
no more. not again.

I forge my own future.
breathing on hot coals, thrusting
raw metal into the red heart of
the fire.

this is my forgery.
I built it with my own two hands.
the only two
that may create within it.

Not saying I love you
this morning felt like
forgetting to take my
medicine.

You visit me at work,
turning hard hats as you approach
the construction site fence.

the fact that they all know who
you are, is the only reason why
no one whistles.

I put down all my tools,
except that look that makes you
blush and cover my face

with your hand; a soft, sweet joke.
*don't look at me like that, boy.
you know what it does to me...

Maybe many moments
of mania have made me
a candidate
for keeping
things I say
to myself.