Which way leads to you?
Do I need a compass to find my way?
As if you are an island
from some far-away shore
that I spot but can never reach

I look at you
you are so close
Would a map help me out?
Tracing a line between you and me?
Finding the way
as the crow flies
so I can get to you
as soon as can be?

Should I use my heart?
it makes the most sense
but for almost
2, 3 years
I have already used it

and I've never gotten
anywhere  

I am forever
lost

and you are still that island
that I cannot
reach

The poles have shifted, the tide retreats from the shore!
Shanty lines revised and rehearsed
upon a crumpled paper covered with speckled dirt,
to make a lasting impact at the foot of the blackened hearse.

Does she hear me, this woman trapped in portrait?
The frame it yields and shakes mid rotation,
teetering back and forth as a compass without
magnetism, in circles as a ship lost to the starless night.

The painted woman with her knowing smile bores
her eyes into mine, her flashing irises projecting
from her world into ours, from her reality into mine.

My eyes blur and a vision dances for me,
a water color flow, with daisy tunes lost
in a shimmering and shifting mist,
swirling colors bear together, mixing and connecting,
rubbing and repelling, crossing my eyes in its intoxicating motion.

My mouth slacks and my shoulders sag,
lost in the trance of this melting scene,
and it’s dragging pull.

Excited I ran to show them, to show what I saw,
but they didn’t listen, to them I speak in gibberish.
I smirk and feel my face begin to melt, my ears drooping and my nose falling, the drops fall
and a puddle begins to form under my feet,
before dribbling slowly down the drain on the floor,
In a watercolor swirl.

You should know,
that I no longer follow my compass.
Where the wind pushes,
I lead with squinted eyes.
The horizon is far,
cradled with opportunity.

I’ve taken the step for once,
without you and your map.
I’ve held my hand out,
gave you coordinates.
Yet, you hesitate.

You should know,
I’ve tried.
We no longer scramble,
the sharp edges of “what if?”.
Instead, the question is,
“what now?”

How did it come to this?
I thought with the sun.
Tying the string,
on brush and broken branches.
Will you follow?
The hints, arrows, and signs.

Our maps are different,
one south and one north.
Still, I tried,
circling landmarks left and right.
You will not go north,
but south.
We depart in full gate,
away from our point.
Alone.

You should know,
its time to say goodbye.

I love you.

Needles seeking north with
cursed magnets in the way.
Some call it stupid;
But I say brave

And wish that I was one.

Reluctantly
The driver stops
To watch me leave his whirring chair.
I nod and say goodbye.

Sparkles fill the air
Where fly the remnants of my broken dreams,
Shattered by the hardness of my cold and quaking heart.

And then he drives away.

I'm faltering
Just on the edge
Leaning out above the flow
Of time and space and whispers in the dark.
Happy is the man whose heart is one
Whose heart is won.

And I?

I'll be okay.
In time.
The driver will come back to me
and find a wholly different flower
In the pocket of my coat.
He'll smile when he sees me
Like he always does.

Feathers aren't weightless,
but they sure help you fly.
Heartache, too, gives wings to
your sigh.

Someday, I'll build a new boat.
Someday, I'll try.
Someday, I'll laugh and it won't be a lie

But now? Who am I kidding, really.