"when we live in Oregon, things will be brighter, i know it."

i can't see your face in my mind anymore
i see the shadow of your smile, and the shape of your hands and feet
the soft lines on your thighs
but i can't see your face

your kitchen has dark spots now
i'm choosing to forget your house
and the names of your dogs
but no matter how hard i try
i still imagine waiting at your door
and seeing baxter
and boo
barking at me

this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you

I haven't been in love for what seems like too long
I've fallen in love with the sound of silence ringing where affection stands
In the absence of it all, I feel a numb ache of sorts, clawing for attention
And I start to wonder if those who told me I rely on relationships were right

I used to fear this feeling like a child in the dark,
But I'm used to the lack of light now
And if anything, I'm afraid to see fear seep back into my view for the fact that it might be bigger than I think
The fear of the unknown is the only fear I've known for some time
If I'm not careful, I might flood into too many feelings
And slip in the darkness I've learned to stand still in

If I tiptoe lightly around the edges of my mind
If I stay out of the light I've kept inside
Will I be safe(r)?
Will I be dry?

I know I haven't been calm for some time
But I've been moving so fast that I've learned not to look twice at how I'm actually reacting
I've been so scared, but only behind the curtain
And I've hidden so well, I hope I never come out

I've noticed I'm loved in my most familiar state.
Red had been my obsession, my color in my mind, since I was small and whenever I come back to it, people come back to me.

The more light I let shine through, the more people notice, the more they want to know.

I am not often bright enough.

Black is creative. I stall in Black, I waste away in the dark creating non stop.
Black is familiar territory to most but it's not a place people love to return.
In Black, I am alone.
I am once again, in Black.

Red was love and loss and flowers flowing from my body like I was spring.
Red was nights dipped in cool blue, a reminder of love and colors that couldn't be forgotten.
Red became orange, I was faded but desperate, and soon Red wasn't the same. Red was a foreign land, a shade cast over a garden to rest.
And the night set, and Black was all I could see.

I tried to add the colors I saw, I tried to keep dark but vibrant and suddenly nobody wanted to watch, to learn anymore.
If I could trust in the fact of Red, if I could trust that I could go back, I would dive in.
But who's to say that I will be loved again, as I attempt to fool the eye into the brighter?
A dark state is just as comfortable, even if not lovable.