he stood there holding ashes,
and sifting through them
he tried to piece together
his foggy and charred past

people swim in and out of this river of memory,
the miles walked construct a rugged path-
but the beauty and depth of this path
can hardly be fathomed
and can seldom be walked.

trapped in a tangle, a thick tangle of brush
you'll find thorns and flowers-
burrs and soft leaves

but with the right amount of will,
and maybe a knife,
you can fight your way into the sunlight again,
just as he did.

sometimes he reminisces upon this dark forest
and wonders why he ever wanted to go.

he conveys a sense of strength and power,
and this shell lies thick over
his shattered interior,
a black hole of memories,
an abyss of feelings

the money and far-fetched wishes were never granted to him-
he only had his thoughts going for him
and so he needed an occasional way out of this seemingly unfair madness

that temporary escape became his life,
that forest became an addiction

it was a beautiful forest while he was there,
and he built a lovely home in the forest
then all weather was welcomed-
aside from the fire that ignited when the forest dried out

he dropped a match to light his daily campfire,
but he missed the circle of sticks, ashes and twigs ever so slightly
and routine turned to madness,
the forest then was nothing but a sea of ash,
dust and grey
when the long-lasting flames were through with it

he vacated, reluctantly back to his home in town,
his normal, not very outstanding home

and a strange comfort washed over him-
like he had always belonged to it and
was never meant to leave

simple pleasures brought him the greatest joys-
like the sunshine on the porch in summer
and the chilled rain in autumn

and then there she was-
walking her small dog down the road one morning
while he sat with his coffee in the chair on that porch-

it was August and the sun beat down, though it was early.
his cup began to burn the skin on his hand,
and this sensation took his eyes off of her for a brief moment,
but after he adjusted his hand,
his eyes locked back on her until she was out of his line of sight

he set his cup down and he ran,
caught up to her with a breathless, cheesy compliment

little did he know that over time, she'd complete him
and further cure him-
washing away his tornadic past

one foggy, pleasant morning,
they set out for that long-forgotten forest
and she discovered that there were still pieces of his most prized possessions
laying there in the dust and rubble

they fit what they could into their backpacks
and carried it on home to wash it all off

she was like a tissue to his tears
as they fell at the discovery of these items-
he'd long since forgotten their existence;
but she wouldn't let him suffer
as those memories hit him hard and cruelly,
as she washed them up and asked him to explain the meaning behind them

she discovered his true feelings, and why he seemed so distant
they only fascinated her and brought her joy.

he smiled through the tears of pain,
and wrapped her in a hug

they grew, over the weeks, to love and love more
and when their lips finally met,
they thought it had to have been meant to be.

he was amazed that a person could look past the
hell he put himself through for one simple pleasure.
and to him, she was so dainty and flawless,
she had an air of innocence.

her own broken past though,
was not something she chose to go through.

they found ultimate comfort and security in one another,
and it far outdid the forest that always had brought him solitude

they decided it was time to leave this jaded town,
and went far west and were comforted under the sunny skies,
and warmth there

from then on, cars and voices buzzed on by like sand through an hourglass
the sun rose every day,
and the rain fell occasionally,
but the rain was needed for the land to exist,
so it was embraced
rather than shunned

they walked hand in hand through everything they did
and loved each other more than they could understand
and the forest-
sure, they sometimes made the long trek to pay it a visit,
but forgiveness and their western sublimity
outweighed the vast depth and sin of the past, of the east.

lover of love's long lost history
you are so intrinsically dear to me
and i know you can hear the beat
when our hands go blistering

i love the neapolitan but not naples
listen to how the city sings like the others
but she buys time and barely bothers
to remove her appropriating staples

she is a reflection
of a reflection
of a reflection
of a reflection

but you, my dear neapolitans,

how holistically human you happen to be
and what a human thing to do
to braid oneself with a few
ventricles of other hearts unseen

you are not special insofar as you are human
and the home you make mistakes you
for a permanent resident, assumes you
are a planted person whose sole purpose is bloomin

but you are dynamic, not static
you do not live in someone's attic
you move around, the ground beneath you
isn't bequeathed to staying beneath you,

you

keep moving and loving and all of the aboving
because our love isn't something
that can be taken away by a location change
or how 21,000 hearts are arranged