It was a national day
I pieced myself together
From remains of melancholia  
You asked about the weather
I said it looked like a tornado
I'm spinning into a dreary dream
You laughed the way roses wilt away
And took another sip from a broken glass of wine

I watched the garden untangle itself
In the breeze of an April's December
Hanging holiday lights with whiskey breath
Your hair tangled in knots
Like bows on unopened presents
I remember the shade of Crimson
That you left across the white picket fence
When the rain poured and tried to wash it all away

noun | pen·e·tra·tion |\pe-nə-ˈtrā-shən\
1) the act of going through or into something: the act of penetrating something
2) an ability to understand things clearly and fully*

if you penetrate their body
without entering their mind
you aren't really all the way in

i swear

when i looked

into his eyes

i saw so many unknown galaxies

universes, and skies

i felt like a scientist

eager to discover what was inside

Today I had a dream,
I was in my father's house,
He told me to burn the money,
And something else...

Then I woke up hard and fast,
Nervous about what he had said.
Was it his ghost I spoke to last?
Then I realized he wasn't actually dead,

Just in a hospital bed.

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.

And so she wrote about
the most exquisite pain
he caused;
the way he said 'i love you'
the way he kissed her
and then a bit later on,
the way he left with a simple 'sorry'

She wrote about every tears
that has been shed
and yet she wondered,
was it all that easy
was it worth it
was he worth it?

She told the world about him
She turned him into a poetry
And she wrote wholeheartedly
Hoping someone could understand
How cruel he was to break her

But deep inside, she wanted him
to read it out loudly
and finally find his way back to her
and she wanted to hear the phrase
'i love you', once again
but this time-
she wanted him to not tell her a lie

a.r