My dear, I am writing you from the depths of my solitude, to ease your worried heart and mind. Loneliness has been gnawing at my terrified flesh as of late. Yet, my only wish is to remain alone. Unseen and untouched. I think this is pure joy, or the illusion of it. But I am content at this very moment. I promise.

You might think that I am slowly sinking. That I will soon reach the bottom of the ocean, and you fear it is too dark and solitary there. That I might not survive my own madness— not this time, not by myself. That I cannot swim nor do I intend to learn how to. That I willingly gave my body to Poseidon as a peace offering. That I finally made my peace— not with God, but with a god nonetheless. That I am all swallowed up. That I will not see you again. That I will die lamenting your forgotten smile. That Azrael, the angel of death, weeps over my doom. That I have died long ago—
But how can a corpse feel such emotions?
How do I tell my stubborn heart that it is not beating for you any longer?
How do I comfort my frantic soul by lulling it to an eternal sleep?
—And if so then tell me, my dearest one, don’t I deserve serenity, too? After burning for a decade, yearning for a safe haven. Do you think I finally deserve to rest?

I have memories
Of lying down in the backyard
Of my childhood home
Dressed in a hug
Parka, snow bibs, and gloves a size too big
The world had grown completely silent
All my fears held back
By a curtain of snowflakes

Sometimes
when the world is too loud
And everything is a little too much
My mind will wander off
To a snowy neighborhood
At night
In a small town

Often times this mental space
holds only darkness
All my developmental flaws
Packed away in moving boxes
Thick black smoke seeps between the cracks
Of pristine cardboard and plastic
Being loaded onto a truck
A size too small

It’s funny
That house never felt like a home
But sometimes
When the world was wrapped
In a blanket of snow
I felt peace and warmth
Out in the cold

I was sixteen when the machines came.
The letters “C-A-T” screamed at me from across the street
As the harsh yellow tore at the roots of the
Cherry trees across the street.
Of course the orchard had never been mine,
I had not planted the seeds and curated the
Beautiful blooms through their short lives,
Picked the cherries off the trees myself.
But what about all the photoshoots I’d done
Among the gorgeous white blooms,
All the times my friend had walked through
The rows of trees to get to my house and
Left paint splatters of cherries across the kitchen floor,
All the sunsets I’d seen through the leaves
That made me nostalgic for things
I had never experienced?
What if I’m growing up and moving out
And can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that
These plants that have smiled at me from my
Window for over a decade have returned
To the Earth?
What if these days the
Weeks are crying when they should be glowing and
The absence of trees is simply the target of
One of those odd tricks that sorrow shoots out of the mind
That remind me that change is the only thing that’s
Permanent?
I wish that the emptiness of the field could be replaced by
Happy little white blooms
But instead the CAT machines screech and moan
And all I can feel is
The ache of old nostalgia and the
Peculiar nostalgia of the unknown.

t's fall out here now.

-----------------------------

a haven it was once                                                             ­                     

now a mourning ground.

------------------------------

For you this year                                                             ­                                           

wildflowers I leave

------------------------------

The sky under which I walk

the memories you left with me

all bear down on me

inside and out.

-----------------------------

I can hear you laughing.

the sound carries

through the cold air.

Serene and sure.

-------------------------------

Leaves crunch under my bare feet.

I can feel them.

They keep me here

Even when all other reason fails

------------------------------

I cannot walk into your tomb.

My feet refuse to move

an inch beyond that pretty wood.

So I stand at our door listening

to that soul trapped inside.

-----------------------------------

A warm voice crooning

some long forgotten song

a myriad of sounds and images

buried behind that door

--------------------------

The sky under which I walk

the memories you left with me

all bear down on me

inside and out.



- havenx

A world beyond the dreams of mortals,
filled with passages and portals.
A magical place, of hope and grace.
The unreal is real, the real is unreal.
A constantly turning wheel.
A place I could only dream of,
the spreading wings of a dove.
The perfect place for all magic admirers,
a space where my dreams burn like fire.
But this such place, could it be true?
A place I know, I knew.
But this haven, it comes with a catch.
For it bears a key and a latch.
And now it can't even be found,
the wild vines that bind it can't be unbound.
Will I ever get to open the gate?
Could I discover it, before it's too late?
If I cannot my heart, my dreams, all will be shattered.
And people will laugh, like it doesn't even matter.

~
Sleep, sweet darling
Sleep

Remember drowsy
blue waters
heal and swoon
the ennui haze

In softly pillowed oblivion
where even your
little toes and feet
touch bottom

Beloved dreamer
in tempera obscurity
there will be no memory
of the procession
ferrying our kipped-down family

They will dance
widdershins around us
with fluttered eyelids
and reclining hearts

But whether an
allegory of the cave or
an analogy of the sun toward
some dividing line between
~either way~

Sleep, sweet darling
Sleep
~