~
faded mauve
butterflies
fluttering along
defeated
selenitic walks
the sound of
abandoned ship bells
in the far
parlor north
but the guilt of
wind is silent
like Venetian whispers
from motionless lips

us, then
inward and upward
one step too far
a house of strangers
tipping like boats
seaworthy as sleep
oars divide
the ocean
but framed pictures
and love letters
unite the walls
to this unstable floor
then, us
always, us
~

"but I only pulled up my underwear?!;"

finish the sentence in a poem.

I'm at war with myself.
My confidence caught in between
a battlefield of destructive choices,
defeating words and deafening voices,
that strike me down constantly.
I'm over taken by armed anxieties,
their vocalities violently shattering
any chance I've had at victory.
My white flag falling at my feet,
as I hear them scream,
"You'll never be good enough!"

You told me to jump,  
take the risk,
take the leap of faith.
I jumped out of trust,
expecting to fall right into your arms.
Instead I met hard ground,
a thin layer of rocks.
Cuts, bruises, and wounds
Crushing, suffocating pain
Yet I only cried the moment I realized you betrayed me.

“I feel so sad”, she sad.

“Someone’s muzzled happiness and locked her in a basement”, I replied.
“You just need to find her”.

“What if I found her dead?”, she asked.

”Then realise this one thing…
…it took you to be alive,
to distinguish that which is dead”.