A dream—
Perhaps it was nothing but a dream, though how real.
How real the gardens of childhood seemed
As they appeared to me, a sea of flowers:
Rubies and emeralds, with golden leaves.
And beyond the gates I saw you, ethereal arms outstretched,
As if to embrace me,
So full of life, it was difficult, though I remembered—
I remembered you were no longer that glittering garden.
Your leaves and petals were cold and black…
Vessels for forbidden memories.

every time he puffs his cigarette
it always got me thinking
about how could he love
the smoke leaving his body
or maybe savoring its aftertaste

every time he puffs his cigarette
it makes me feel sick to think of
the smoke goes in of my body, and not his,
receiving its after-effect

every time he puffs his cigarette
i’ve always think of, that it’s his escape
like me, i’m stuck in between and
he is stuck on his suicidal state of mind
that no one could ever understand

I can’t feel the concrete through my shoes
As the chain-link cage around the sidewalk loops around me.
I climb steadily up the incline to your bridge.
The cars pass quietly and sparsely, hopping islands
In this suppressed midnight hour, streetlights reflected
Beneath us in the water. I carry you with me, as I do every day.
It’s been three months, nine days.
I think of our days together.
Of our youth, of your lilac perfume and chestnut eyes.
I think of how we never got tired,
Or how you never got old,
And I reach the apex of the bridge with these thoughts swimming about.
I lean and look to the water as the reflections shimmer in a boat’s wake.
And I wonder how it felt when you landed.
I want to ask you, was it instant? Did you feel yourself pass?
And I want to find out, to dive in after you and chase you down.
Did I tell you, I can’t see my therapist anymore?
I can’t afford her.
And as soon as I couldn’t pay, she cared little of my problems.
How ****** is that?
I raise our daughter alone now, but I can’t do her hair how you could.
She’s sixteen months, and four days.
I think often of if she’ll remember you as something more
Than one of her father’s stories
But the other day, she saw your picture on the mantle.
And she called for you, and began to cry as she pointed.
And I followed suit as I struggled with her hair.
I wonder, if you would have let me, could I have helped?
This that I feel now in your wake, shimmering like those lights,
Is this how you felt for those last months?
Could I have done anything to stop this?
And I think of your parents, of mine, of the therapist that I can’t see anymore,
With their piercing, bloodshot eyes.
Their needling questions.
I wonder if that’s how you perceived me, and I realize,
There’s nothing I could’ve done to help either of us.

my hands are on automatic, pressing down on clay for three hours
then pinching plastic through wire for another three …creating and creating.
Coiling around the hurt & hiding it in a mount of clay  "the kiln will burn it” I say to myself

the marijuana
does the trick
removing those
bad thoughts that stick

the alcohol
halts the flood
that scent of you
inside my blood

the hazy nights
a stranger's love
hides the dagger
removes the glove

but once the high is over, my thoughts out of the mud
it's time to start all over, 7 grams of bud

it would have been easier if you were cruel
if your tongue dripped poison and not honey
if your words cut because they were sharp
and not because i showed you my soft places
if you had been malicious instead of careless
it would have been easier for me to heal
if you had been less easy to forgive

Hello my friend,
You have been gone for too long.
A hug that was once so warm and comforting has left me hollow and cold.
You have latched yourself back onto me.
Your grip is so strong.
I do not want you here.
So, please, please be gone.
I cannot hold onto you the way I once did.
You are so toxic to me.
It's getting hard to breathe.
I will not let you control my life,
not like you did before.
You do not own me.
Get out of my head.
This temple I have built.
I am stronger now.
I will not be filled with guilt.
You are a small part of my life,
you are not my world.
I refuse to let myself drown
in the darkness that you are.
I will come back on top  
and you can watch from afar.
One day I will be strong enough to not fall back into your arms.