my walls are not built
for the same reasons
as yours.
they were built to protect
myself from my own head

•|||°

I protect you
Your thoughts
Your secrets
Your pain

You hurt me
You are my thoughts
My secrets
My pain

I treasure these stone walls that keep me warm at night, when I know its other occupants share no spark. The bitterness and filth of the night hold no triumph over me when the darkness of these baren walls hold me tight, bundled in their sheet of black silk. Walls are so inviting, they make a home and a fortress for my dreams to spindle into webs of mysteries and delights only I can fathom. For there is no need for windows nor doors when I do not intend to leave and there is no reason for me to depart. The moon has broke my heart, and the sun has crisped my soul far too often. My mind is all that remains intact and must be protected. No rabid creature can disarray my beautiful mind again. It must be kept sacred  in these beautiful stone-cold walls.

I avoid the ocean,
The waves may crush these bones-
I stay safe upon the shore.

Although I may have loved to swim,

At the beach,
My feet,

Remain in the snow.

i remember the grit of the rocks under my feet,
the tug of tiny waves at my toes,
the smudges of mud on your cheeks,
we were so small.

the grass was dead and the air cold
and you knew exactly why,
always smarter than me
but how could I ever even think
of holding that against you?

we never made promises,
but even death couldn't do us part
blood is thicker than water, isn't it?
i hate that phrase,
hate everything it means
and everything it's done to me
but you are my closest
and maybe it is the blood
running through our veins
and dripping from our noses

I’ll help you find you way;
Live to see brighter days,

When you’re feeling imprisoned,
I’m the key to your cage.

When you’re lost I will find you,
In fogs I’ll always shine through.

When you’ve lost, it’s a gain;
I’ll protect you from pain.

The secret of love,
Of remaining together...
Is not what everyone supposes.
It is not always the bringing of gifts,
The candlelight dinners
Or bouquets of roses.
After the bloom is off
these loving flowers,
Irritations and troubles arise.
There are clashes
Over little things.
And lovers forget
The vows they made so easily,
Violating them with anger.
Old resentments from the past
Rise up to poison with enmity,
The nearness that will not last.
Those with wisdom shun these fights,
The sad agony of lonely nights,
Lying awake and wondering
If love still exists, or if one matters,
To the other, if one cares at all.
Over time, self-protection grows,
And the lover builds a rancorous wall
Where weeds choke sunlight from the rose
And the other cannot hurt you.
But the play still goes on,
Like a song that still repeats,
Over and over unnoticed.
And a pantomime of caring
Begins to form, with hollow smiles
And half-hearted promises.
The Rose now lists against the wall,
Pale and tamed, like a common plant,
A vegetable in a kitchen garden.
And lovers expect passion
From a dreary fruit like this?
But once in a thousand times,
Deep roots that began long ago,
Giving rise to the first flower of love,
Last beyond boredom, thirst and drought.
Thorns pierce their hearts through the wall,
Bringing tears of surprise and recall.
The lovers find after the rain:
They have what they have sought.
And that which they sought is all.

Summer 2018