Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers

I'm so tired I keep stumbling over my feet
Much like the words on my tongue getting caught in my teeth
But if you were to kiss me now you might understand
You have no season nothing to govern your insides
Consistency is not a law in your mind and its twisting your bones
Somehow I find myself here again covered in someone else's blood
At least thats the way that I remember it
But I guess I'll never be sure of anything when I can't trust my own perception
The corner of my eye has become your favorite haunt
But I don't mind I enjoy your silent company
I've been avoiding sleep like the plague just in case there's a reason
Supposedly there is a chance that I'm in critical condition
And if I had to guess I would say they're probably right
Its just been so long since I've seen you smile
No number of miles could carry too high a price
I just don't know what you want so I'll sit quietly and wait
The thought of pushing you away breaks my heart
In patterns you can't find in shattered glass or broken bones
I would know I've had my fair share of bad luck and frail redemption
You've contorted everything and it makes it hard to see
If only I could take your hands and whisper in your ear
Then maybe you would stop trembling
Maybe you could see far enough to see the sky
Its only so dark because its time for you to rest and tend to your wounds
My eyes may deceive me often but I don't see any clouds for miles
All I see are the stars that used to make up my favorite constellation
*~W.C.

to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.

to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.

to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.