And I am told to just forget you
Like I haven’t seen your soul
The way you breath and live
And
How I didn’t show you
Where I hide my scars
And why I don’t cry.

It is Thursday
And my father tells me about
My stepmother.
Apparently she
Has been using a pandemic
To make my father feel inadequate
Because she is a high school teacher
My father never graduated high school
And my little brother is now to be homeschooled.
I tell him I can’t do it anymore
That the negativity is too much
That it sounds like he is making her problems
His own.
That it sounds like
He is still in a relationship
With her.
If she is so insecure
That she must use her profession
To make-up for her ability to mother
It is her problem
And not something we need to address or deal with
Because it is her problem
Not ours.
I tell my father
That he has already divorced her
That he is not in a relationship with her
And need not hold on to her problems
Like we have a stake in them.

That evening
My father is not present
For dinner at 6:30,
Which has become
The custom time we eat dinner
As a family.
This tells me
That what I said
May have been all too accurate.
I wonder if my step mother is right
To criticize him
Right to point out
That he has some **** to deal with
Before he can provide a stable home.
I eat dinner alone
At the dining table.
The only light on in the house
Is in the kitchen and my brother’s bedroom
The rest of the house lies in silence.
I am eating my dinner in the dark
With the lights on.

It is the hight of COVID-19 pandemic
It is said that 1 to 200,000 people
Will die this week.
My mother calls me twice.
The first time
I silence my phone.
She leaves a message
And calls again,
So I answer it,
I tell her I am busy.
She tells me she is outside
And has something for me.
I walk out
Into the unnaturally warm night.
She is in her car
Waiting in the driveway.
She looks thin,
I can see
That she still hasn’t put on the weight
That is natural and becoming
To her body.
I wonder if she has yet
To seek treatment
Or therapy.
She hands me a cd
Wrapped in paper towel
And secured in a plastic sandwich bag.

We are advised to not touch anyone
Who does not live with us
It could further spread the virus.
I have not seen her in at least a year,
But when she reaches out for a hug
I embrace her
As if she has not
Abandoned us.
I still have love for her.

So
When I follow you on Instagram
I am sprouting a seed of forgiveness
Because
Being the bigger person
Does not mean being bitter or stubborn
It means being honest with yourself.
And
I still have love for you.

It was fitting
That it rained every day that summer
The clouds hung low
And pressed precipitation into the pavement
The sun was shining and the streets were glistening
The atmosphere came down to our level
As though to say
You are grounded
The grass was green
As though to say
You are alive
And the wind was calm
As though to say
You are still
Mother Nature seemed to be taking maternity leave
To nurture neglected nights
Passed absent of distraction
To water wandering willows
Weeping empty wisdom
The sky cried for us
When we were too busy to pretend to be anything
But grown
Sunken clouds dirtied the horizon
So we could forget that we were not clean
Cumulonimbus occluded the sky
So we did not have to worry about flying away
Held tight our skin secured secrets
Soothed violent visions
Made our minds a bit more watered down.
That summer something changed
In the sharpness of the morning
The sun was no longer a surprise
Sleep became something I did at night
My conversations with you
Became something saved for the last sip
Of a handle of ***
And your name was replaced
With him, you, the boy
You were a dream
I woke up from,
I had been asleep
Long enough.
That summer it was spring
It was the renaissance
Torture was no longer the norm
So I learned to stop loving you
With my hands
Holding fire love
With paper palms
Or maybe I was the fire
And we were paper mache
I still don’t know
If I was the consumer or the consumed
But on the back of a broken trail
I learned to be neither
Do no harm
And take no ****
Be as strong as an oak
Move your home from volcano
To valley
And vacate the wrath of want
That summer
I learned to reconcile
A child’s heart
With adult problems
I learned to raise my character
With a self-esteem that said something
With a throat that echoed more
Than him, you, the boy
That summer something changed
And finally it was me.

Today I am your poet kindly,
The wind has renamed my skin goose bumps
I am not sorry,
My words will not be
Filling you with rage today,
Making a display of what we know
But are afraid to say.

Today I am your poet softly,
I know it may be costly
To avoid an opportunity,
But this is my cop-out poem
Understand that I am mad as hell
Am ****** the *******
I do have **** to strew
But today my words are tired,
Yesterday my pen was heavy with destruction
I brought asteroids to earth
Made malleable a boy's soul
Yesterday my fists were swinging, hardened
But today
You won't find them beating glass ceilings.

To my ex lover,
You may breathe.
I will not be selling your secrets today,
To my family
You may speak freely,
I will not be bringing our living room
To the stage today.

Breathe while you can
Become comfortable where you may
There won't be another fair sailing time
Such as today,
I am your poet strategically,
I will replenish the circles under my eyes
Armies of literary devices will be trained today,
Know that a sword was never made sharp
Without steel first being made soft
And when they know my kindness
They will likewise know my anger
When they know my exhaustion
They will learn of my determination
Creation determines destruction.

Today I am your poet kindly,
Drink your tea friend,
Have a doughnut or two
Today, you do not have to worry
About my syntax exposing you
But keep in mind
How quiet preparation sounds,
A storm may not announce itself
Until it makes landfall.

Logic,
That tired practice
That keeps busy bodies satisfied
Until they find love.

Love,
The only illogical action
That anyone has been sure of
That has made a mockery of reason.

Reason,
A cause for change
There is no reason
The Sun doesn’t ask the Earth
For a repayment
For the life it gives
Such a lack of reason,
Such a gift.

To give,
That which is a pure act
Of provision
Senseless and costly
But what light
What life is begotten
By such a pure act
Of honesty.

Honesty,
That which is raw,
It is only honesty
That is exempt from values
A history that is the only constant.

Consistency,
The only thing you can predict
When **** hits the fan
What will withstand
Who will out boast the highest bidder,
What a patient power.

Power,
The only thing which can be truly stolen
Yet you will always have it
The beat in our chest
May be silenced
But the formation of mountains
Will still shake your sepulcher.
True power
Deals in patience.

Patience,
A knowledge of
And trust in
What is larger than this
The entropic force
That will make relevant
What is essential.

Essentially,
This is a love poem
Whom it is for
Only time will tell.

When you fall in love
Love wholly,
Give him your afternoons, nights, mornings
And even the time between them.
When he speaks drink in his words
How he fixes them to your ear,
Let him dress you in a narrative of love.

When you meet his family
Always say thank you,
Even for the simple things like water
And listen when he speaks to his mother,
How his love for her is irreplaceable.

When you meet his friends
Always laugh at their jokes
They may be corny,
But you will hear pieces of him in their conversations,
Hear the passion in his voice
When he complains of them
He’s telling you what he values.

When he holds your hand
Hold his gaze
Let him know you see him for who he is
And keep your eyes sharp,
That way you will always be the first one
To see the stutter in his step.

When he takes you to special places
Breath deep,
You may be the only boy
Whose been this close to him
So hold the atmosphere
In your chest
That way when his eyes run
You will have the cardio to catch them.  

But don’t think you always have to run for him,
When he lies to you
Let him lie
He may never have been caught before
Let his words build him a shelter.

When he ignores you
Let your pain remind you of your vulnerability
Time makes it too easy for us
To become dependent.

When you fight
Don’t hold anything back
Say what you mean,
Be fair to yourself
Never let your sentences end on eggshells.

When he stops saying he loves you
Love yourself,
No one in the world could need your love
More than you
Let his silence
Make you stronger
Prouder to love you.

When he leaves you,
Try not to laugh
Let his words reveal
How false a shelter he has hid under
Be brave enough to cry in front of him
But be strong enough to walk away.

To all the space heaters out there
Your warmth is well appreciated,
The walls, chairs, and windows thank you
Winter nights are much cozier by your side
And while a fire place is much more desirable
There is something about a space heater that is beautifully honest,
There aren’t any booms or blasts
You know why you’re here
And you’re dam good at your job.

But I don’t know what to do with you
My hands fear you
Because I left my oven mitts with the last fire
That was reliable as a fire work
That burned uncontrollably
Only to go out.
But you and your steady hum
You and your tenderness
That warms a room before I even flick you on
You’ve made your way into the beat of my drum
My skips have a rhythm that is to the bone
You keep me warm even when I’m alone.
I realized that I unplugged you in the waxing summer
But you persistent little thing you,
You rhythmic beast
You never turned off
There wasn’t a cold moment
Even when you left I was well supplied with fleece
And fist fulls of fiery passion
The humdy-dum continued on.

August brought external fortification
My walls are thicker
Windows insulated and furnace much quicker
Yet October knocked
And I opened the door.
I don’t need to
These lungs have brought much more than a warm touch
These hands have begun to create again
I now forge my own cadence.
But like a composure's proud piece of work
Like a inversely synchronized symphony
Your humdy-dum dances with my pitter pat
I don’t need you, I want you
And what could be warmer than that?

And every week I read these sad poems
To test if the bear is awake
Every morning I am reminded
Of his presence yet through the day
He no longer seems to stay
He is much more interested in honey
Than harm
And honey I am cradled back into his arms
And I find peace in knowing what love is
Because no amount of
Cloths
Or connections can create this
The stars will never radiate such a power
To know compassion that won’t wilt
Like the pale pedal of a flower
My heart grew so large that I got lost in it for 45 days
And now all I can do is find myself
Living the first promise I made you,
If my love can last a month
I will come back
If a month cannot create another man
If a month cowers
Next to what we had
If I can find you in this broken mirror,
I will buy another,
I will find deeper blues
Brighter reds
I will paint my heart in the center because
I will know what it means to use it
And I will share it with you
If your face finds itself back in my space,
In my field of vision
Within the reach of my breath I will hold you
That is all my hands know to do
I will not pry pull or poke,
This bear has learned how quickly the bees will sting,
I will simply listen to the hum
And remember how good it must be
To feel the sun.