i broke today.
i watched my bones shatter on the ground
and fall into a million pieces onto the floor.
as i stared at my breaking body,
i came to a realization.

the pieces that were one so beautifully sculpted
were deformed and
unfamiliar.
a distorted picture of who i once was.

i cried for the person who resonated
darkness in me,
staring
standing
still.

i will conquer and fix myself
someday
but for now
im okay with not being okay

I have been alone,
How alone you ask?

So alone,
Even the tears flowed away,
Bearing disapproval to my state

So alone,
That my lungs haven't been polished for years,
With breath shared by a beautiful soul

The windows, they stare at their own scars
The old doors, go either way to closure,
The torn roofs welcome the rain
But the drops fill spaces,
   Not hearts

Chatter

she. what are u listening to?
me.  melancholy song writers broken love tunes

she. ugh.  why?

me.  wanted to see how deep into the bed
I could sink,
till you came a looking to
play with me, my spirits to raise,
a game of capture the flag
indoors

--—————
Aural vs. Oral

her night dress rides up,
I awake to an undressed
waist and thigh,
take advantage of the pomp
& circumstance,
cause i believe
whole heartedly in
waiste not, want more

as tongue performs its
repertoire of magic tricks,
i.e. reciting poems,
to the standard whelps
and yelps of “oh its just you,”
keep hearing little tiny whispers
but not  those accustomed
sweet nothings?

turns out she is
listening to her book,
quite the mesmerizer,
on her new cordless earbuds
which are  tablecloth covered
by her blondini tresses

upset?

nah. applauded her
multimedia tasking,
but took it as a challenge,
my efforts redoubled

she didn't seem to mind

now she wakes me up to show me,
Surprise!
her cordless earbuds, in place

sigh.

--——————-
Ordering Coffee

weekends, get coffee in bed
in my 19 oz. porcelain
cup from Toronto,
standing order is:
fill it to the rim,
extra cream

she says.  
isn't ironic!
that is exactly
what I
charge for my coffee

payable in advance

today i thought
of you
and i didn't flinch
my heart didn't
beat any faster
my mind didn't
race
i'm getting along
without you

when I began to write
poetry
all those years ago

I was amazed to find
that I even
had a voice.

It was a gift
that I never
hoped for.

I only shared light.

There is too much
darkness.

And then
little by little
I had to write
about the monsters
in the deep.

And my writing
got to be
unrecognizable.

Those couldn't be
my words.

Don't bury me
in a grave
in a big old box
I've known too much
darkness.

And so here I am
trying to balance
injury
with hope for a new future

That may be called
healing.