We all know this feeling
upon certain loss.
Our essence, our vitality
vanishes as wood does
upon the death of the fire
that burnt it before.

We become hollow,
Doubting any substance remains
within our closest, tired caverns.
What's unleashed can't be physically seen
and yet it trivializes
the most gruesome of bloodbaths.

At times--even all times--
we wish we would bleed
rather than cry
so our hearts could donate what we lost
to the dry, coarse dirt.

But don't wither yourselves so,
for none should crack
with the frailty of a shell.
The roots may be ripped,
yet the seed may still be planted.
And with no sunshine,
a sunshine we begin shunning,
the rain of our tears can never cease
to allow our true pedals to finally blossom.

This shape without space,
This pattern without stuff,
This stream without dimension
Surrounds us, flows through us,
But leaves no mark.

This message without meaning,
These tears without eyes
This laughter without lips
Speaks to us but does not
Disclose its clue.

These waves without sea
Surge over us, smooth us.
These hands without fingers
Close-hold us, caress us.
These wings without birds
Strong-lift us, would carry us
If only the one thread broke.

If I could show you an image
A simple mirage
Of better places, times simply ours
If I could show you, the elegance of care
The soft sweet touch, of my hand on your velvet hair
Speak to you in whispers, words so soft they're barely even there
If I could feel you, a soft weight spread across my chest
A tiny hand delicate in frame, which upon my shoulder would rest
If I could show you, the compassion in my eyes
The sincerity that therein lies
If I could gift to you, this tiny little heart
Small but precious, a delicate work of art
Intricate in design, and a bright red in hue
Solid as steel, yet hollow through and through
Yet I promise a light burns inside at the first glimpse of you
If I could show you this fantasy
This empty little dream
I could make a mirage reality
A drop of hope, a stream

I met this guy in
white Ralph Lauren
and right then and there
I knew we couldn't be friends.

We clicked like a puzzle;
literally every piece seemed to interlock
and I couldn't keep my eyes away
as if this burning desire lay between us
across some paperweight bridge of tension
and affection

and please, I just want to cross it
and I want to throw my hands up
and scream to the mountains
and just yell ***** it! at the top of my lungs
and plunge into whatever void his presence has planned for me

because I can't seem to
shake him off of my mind,
so I know this is already bad.

I can feel it chattering and creating a
foundation under my epidermis
scattering my nerves in places
I did not think were possible
and there sits a bed-sized
crater just for him. And I
know it's bad, I know
it. And I shouldn't
even care and I
shouldn't let it
happen but
here I am
o  n  c  e
again.

gd

the word "love"
is such a relative term

you can love someone
while crying in
the bathtub
screaming sad lyrics
and cutting your
thighs with
a razor blade

you can love someone
while sitting in
the passenger seat of
their car
listening to them speak of
their favorite songs
and the movie they watched
last night

you can love someone
nearly as much as
you can miss someone
like at 7 a.m.
when your coffee is brewing
and your heart suddenly
drops
and memories replay in
your mind

don't define
love
as an emotion
because it is
so much more