Soft dark silky braid
A feather loosed and floated down
From Raven in flight

Forty seven years of being lost
ended in a single moment
when I first laid eyes on you.
Found my purpose and place;
a true sense of self.
Now you must find
your own truth,
your path,
Home.

When I struggled for air,
     You’d pull me in close, our breathing would synch.
When I struggled for calm,
     You’d speak in warm tones, my mind would find peace.
When I struggled to swallow,
    You’d sense on your own, and make me slow down.
When I struggled with pain,
    You’d cure with your touch, lean in and stroke hair.
When I struggled with myself,
    You’d give me your love; I felt valued, worth.
When I struggled …
    You’d make me feel whole.
   You’d elevate.
  You’d comfort
You would.
You.

We are long silken threads of light,
twisting through boundless time and space,
We dance, spin, cavort to form lace;
weaving neither loose nor too tight.

Each crossed path a way to be right,
a newfound chance to find our grace.
A bond of color, shadows, light!
True coupled, or even with space.

When we can’t knit? An awful plight.
But this quest I’ll always embrace;
toward the next moment, off I’ll race!
I’m your shepherd; a true black knight.
Through pitched darkness, you are my light.

My cousin wrote of Crowded Streets;
The “struggling tides of life” within.
He spoke of death, life’s toils, feats;
The loss of youth, malaise, chagrin.

I write of love and light, our tale;
But pain and darkness is not spared.
Against the good they simply pale;
Our value grand -- so rightly paired.

We came in broken, lost our way;
Succumbed to pressures so severe.
But don’t lose sight of how we’d lay;
So close, sweet, and intimate; dear.

Fires forge the strongest steel;
Without adversity -- no gain.
The trials we faced, still we feel;
Love for each other, fresh as rain.

No pressure here, I am your friend;
That fierce loyalty has no price.
My trust in you will never bend;
I need your voice and calm advice.

I guess I hope for a fresh start;
Without any burdens or weight.
As far as body, mind, and heart;
They are free, yours, assigned no fate.

We ARE intimate, that’s not prose;
Not “were”, I thought I’d give you space.
I miss your eyes, lips, crinkled nose;
We are those threads, we make that lace.

It’s our story, it’s worth a write;
And so much has yet to un-fold.
Tales of us should be given flight;
We should, if I may be so bold.

But hear me well, I’ll mince no word;
I miss you more than you can know.
You are my star, my little bird;
It’s not mere talk, I want to show.

So think about a little leap;
Not unhealthy, wrong, or bad.
Just all our good, no mission creep;
Elevate happy -- dilute sad.

Revenge is sweet, for pain it’s grease;
Breaks frozen feelings loose and free.
But so is closeness, love and peace;
And we can have that, you and me.

a word doesn't have to be real for it to have meaning
nothing has to be real for it to grip your stomach and throat and force butterflies into every part of your anatomy
the emotion crawls under your skin and all you can do is feel it

a woman rises in the dawn with her fiery red hair, eating men like air
you become that smiling woman, only 17 and not even a lady
dying becomes your art, and you are indeed very good at it

a man frowned like thunder and went away, the stars not needed today
you begin to pack up your very own sky, melancholy filling your entire world until it all comes to a standstill
wind does not blow and not even streetlights shine
your very own lover is still in tact, a phone call away even
but he frowned like thunder and went away

a raven, a remorse, a rapping at the chamber door
a madness, a mania, a man whose mind is gripped by loss
a horror that now belongs to you, the pigeons on the street start to quoth "nevermore,"
every crow is an omen, every bird is wandering through purgatory just to torment you,
and you have no loss to speak of

I dreamt I wrote that feeling, I dreamt I put it into words
I dreamt I transcended humanity, I dreamt I became the art
I dreamt about the feeling, I dreamt you felt it too

Alone,
Above frozen hills and icy forest,
Finding definition through separation,
A dark island in a white sky,  
Coming closer.

The eyes first- burning beads of life,
Searching for death and opportunity,
Blazing terrifying focus,
Coming closer.

The sound next- quiet rush of primaries,
Hiss of bone and feather slicing frozen air,
Whisper of the wolds wild goddess,
A knife blade.

Cutting holy air like I cut myself,
Soul slicing distinctions and definitions,
Of happiness and loneliness,
And he leaves me,
Alone.