A new wind,
A change in direction.
The past choices made that lead up to the now,
What will this new path bring?
A view?
A hope renewed?
Or something inbetween?
If I were to try and predict,
I would be wrong.
But I could be right as well,
Regardless, you have seen something different.
And the change upon your mind,
Has found its way in.
Be proud,
Be happy.
And eventually you'll win.

Even if I find myself driving away
in a car all by myself breaking every law
and practically flying,
I am doing what I want right now.
I am home, I am safe, I am
loved no matter my flaws.
I pull out of the driveway and onto
the road.
This is how I party.
By myself, stopping for small bits of food,
and playing whatever song at the highest volume.
Before I was home I was in pain.
I suffered holding in every breath that meant
need.
I fought back tears as I walked where my flooding
eyes would be noticed.
I smiled and said I was good whenever the
‘how are you’ questioned bulleted in me.
I would have said,
‘homesick, not even a care that I am used to this place
away from home’.
Here at home I am forgiven no matter what I break and
loved no matter what forsaken move I make.
I’m breathing normally, and I am not worried
about who is out to hurt me.
I don’t hurt back,
I reassure my senses and nobody says I can’t
go home.
This is my real home.

I hate seeing you.
No, I don't hate seeing you.
I hate seeing you like this.
You've been depressed.
You've been hurting and struggling.
You've been crying.
You've been writhing in the agony your mind creates for you.
You're dying.
No, you're not dying.
But you want to be dead.
You think that being dead would be better.
Better than the pain.
Better than the not knowing what's wrong but it's not.
You're broken.
Wait, you're not broken.
But you think you are.
I just want to help you.
I just want to make everything better.
I want to take the pain away.
You think you're broken, and I'd break myself to fix you.
I hate seeing you.
Like this.

There is no part inside me
that fears being alone.
Where most people find panic
in the emptiness that covers
the left side of their bed,
I find comfort.

I'm more than capable
of holding my own hand
and feeling assured
in my lack of dependency on others.

I am good at being alone,
and I think I'm choosing to
remind myself of this right now,
because I am starting to remember
what it's like to have feelings
for someone,
and all I can think about
is how much it hurt last time.

i'm like a pirate
     and she is the treasure
           i've been searching for.

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a descent happiness.

Robert Creeley (1926-2005).
©2015 by Trevon S. Haywood.