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Caroline Lee May 2016
And still I wonder at the feet of some strange Phantom Other
of all the crucifixes and hymnals I misplaced over all the years
Hands unknowingly raised I found myself in the midst of an embrace I was so firmly braced against
I set myself also against you
But is it odd that I see it hovering over you too?
I hope you feel it too.
And all the mistakes I made I keep quiet in the back of my pocket
To use as reasoning against all the ways I could ever let someone close again
When all I want is for someone to burst in and tell me I was worth it all in the end
Self loathing embedded into me like some cultural progression of an unholy procession of higher self
But all I ever wanted was to be one with myself
Instead of hating my own skin
And still the holy ghost hangs over it all quietly watching and projecting pictures of all the people I'd come to love
Happy in their holy havens safe from everything I feared
Everything I feared that had been hiding in my skin
And the countless Sunday mornings I spent observing others fall out seem so distant now when I'm finding church in my bathroom alone
Safe from sanity safe from my darker self
In this is the only purity I will know
May I never be as the winter snow
And it's taken years for me to write in honesty of all the friends I've lost and of my personal heroes who have fallen
But it will take me many more to portray my 40 days of wandering in the house of the lord
Because 40 became 60 and 60 stretches on until I find my footing again
And know the Phantom Other as friend
And learn to let the light fully in
Because I know that you know that I am not too far gone
I'm just learning to move on.
'I am in pursuit of all I can undo'
Caroline Lee Oct 2015
too little too late I sat out watching the embers fall from your bedroom window
and I saw the green glass that falls now across your eyelids
veiling the light and keeping the shadows at bay
and in this
I have begun to realize that every self defense comes with its own side effects
as I watch you seem to not recognize your home
the empty streets bare the same resemblance to the love you used to accept
just let me fill the cracks in your concrete
and the holes in your gate
but we sit side by side not saying anything at all
watching the ash and counting the seconds
or at least I think you do
But whatever is left I will sit and smoke with you in the park
and I will be the slam of your car door as you leave
To a friend whom I have loved like a sister for a long time (whether she will accept it or not)

— The End —