As a pulsating prey
I dance before the Man -
The Lion
Strapped down in shackles.
Drooling behind the bars.

I cut off his mane.
His vulnerability flaunted to any bare eye who would care enough to stare.

For I continue to dance
Teasing my lion
Making sure he knows that he is fed
When I command it.

My words crack as a whip against the lion's back.
He knows that I love another.
Yet he stays in his cage
With the door wide
Open.

"I don't have feelings"
He told me
Rephrasing what the doctors named his demons.

The shadows lurking behind every corner of our precious moments.
Lashing their whips to control this lion of a man.

"I'll be good"*
He tells me
Bending down to his knee as a sacrifice a soldier makes to protect his Lady.
I do not know of any woman less worthy than I

"Do you have everything?"
I look down on your bags
Packed for you 8 hour drive back home.

"Yeah, all set."
We both choke on tears.
Doors closing, and footsteps in stairs.

And as soon as I hear the gate closing
The hollow emptiness in my chest
Tells me you packed something that was not yours to take.

A ghost from the past crossed
my pathway today.
In a city that belonged to neither of

us. A familiar face in a crowd
of no one.
And eyes that still knew how to
pierce underneath all superficial

shields. ****** skin fueled by the seasons passed since our last encounter, beaming of a glow of genuine

happiness. And in choked words, long embraces and small talk we discovered a love we both denied ourselves for years. It was a perfect

moment. All the beauty in the world melted down to those few stolen seconds of wishing we would take the chance.
And then it was over.

A love
I will never forget.
One can only dream
That so will
He.

"I'm afraid that we will become history as soon as the puzzle is finished."
Looking down at my jigsaw I
understand that the picture below is now made of

South African wine, bouldering summer storms, and pieces of garlic in the hands of a dancer who does not

Dance. Only in your arms, I could breathe the best way an asthmatic could. But as a misunderstood

Puzzle Girl, I would always give you the last piece of my jigsaw - knowing that you'd keep the finishing piece in your box of

treasures. Kept a secret. Like the fact that we both *hate to love but keep believing that this too shall pass
as the cancer is eating out our bodies and we fight our separate wars.
You are making history

And I look down at my unfinished jigsaw
knowing that without you
my picture will never be
Complete.

"Remission"
It's such a beautiful word
Giving an illusion so strong you might truely believe you are done.

You are no longer sick;
You are in remission.
You are on pause.
You are in a peaceful
limbo.

I gaze empty out of the window
There's a cat watching the birds from the root of the tree.
"Noddy?"
My doctor keeps talking in the background of wind, beauty and heartbreak.

It's aggressive this time

And all I can think of is how I am empty
My poet is gone
And both physically and emotionally
I am dying.