The wind slaps,
The sea frays,
Yet through it all,
Caw, caw, caw.

That incessant bird,
As much sea as air.
Its offensive call,
An insult to the wind.

He squabbles over the green,
Slimy river carpet.
Another affront,
An almost violent hue.

**** them both,
How dare they be,
As they are, so
Annoyingly free.

And I on the bank,
A bottled storm.
Unaware that their freedom,
Is an invitation.

Instead I keep the stopper
Held fast, silently rage.
A lonely begrudger,
Angry and afraid.

It’s a good thing
We all left when we did
Or I’d of spilled the beans.

Blithering on
in my drunken state,
You’d of learned it all

How sad I am
That making love
is only history

A withered fool
whose only dreams
are memories

Of indiscretions,
shameful then,
but blissful now

Slurred words tumbling out
would’ve told of
My ‘non-conforming’ love,

So powerful
but misconstrued,
that when she said she loved me

I stumbled to the piano
singing “ thine is the kingdom,
and the power,

And the glory”
(Oh, thank you, thank you)
“For...ev..er!  A..a...men!”

Thanking a God
Whose address I misplaced
with words I forgot (till then).

An abomination
Long suppressed by force of will
Might’ve stung your ears,

Thank God I kept
My mouth barely shut
But poised

To betray the little storm
Wreaking havoc in my *****
But not yet my demise

Had I gone on.
But, No.
Good sense prevailed.

Dignity still intact,
I gathered up this twisted history,
This love, this brokenness,

Like so many rags,
trailing on the ground,
And tottered to my car

My dignity’s unscathed.
Oh, it’s a good thing, I suppose,
But, next time, stick around.

i didn’t feel anything.
not when the curves of the earth
dipped into valleys and we plummeted into each other
not when we draped silk between our mouths
and kissed each thread into dust
not when i felt the honey from your tongue
cascade and soothe my worried heart
i felt nothing even when i pretended to
and i do so wish i had any regrets
because tomorrow,
i will still feel nothing,
and i will still want to.

I ripped my skin open
Spilling my secrets and blood on the floor.
But it made you uncomfortable
I was too open
Too raw
Too much.
I apologized
As I covered up my insides
And sewed myself back together.

Do not turn your face away from me
    Please,
Notice me.

If he told you he loved you,
How would he say it?

Would he be bold?
And look you in the eye?
Would he yell the words
You've been dying to hear?

Would he wait for you to say them first?
Cause he's as scared of rejection
as you're scared of commitment?

Or would he listen
To your funny stories
And let it slip in
Like it was a common truth
You both already knew?

Maybe he'd write you a note
Professing his love
With two tiny boxes at the bottom of the page.
One to say yes.
The other to say hell yes.
As you wonder giggling how many unfinished letters lay in his bin in the corner of his room.

Perhaps he'd never tell you.
But he'd show you.
With crooked smiles
And warm jackets
With your favorite desserts
And failed kitchen mishaps.
Maybe he'd randomly boop you on the nose
And tickle your chin
Cos he's still learning of ways to show you
He means those words
He never said.

This desperate need to grasp a pen and
turn the chaos of my thoughts into
conceivable sins is
overpowering.

All these stories burned into my flesh
demand reparation and
the echoes from my past
still etched into my bones
ache for retribution which
is not mine to give.

Yet, still they continue to beg
for the relief of confession, to
be freed from the suffocating confines
of the abyss masquerading as
my mind.

But, I can't.
Not this time.
Some secrets should be left
to die alone in the dark.