I finally got up
out of bed
to wash my face and get a drink
my throat was dry
i couldn;t think
i could taste the salt that ran down my face
my eyes, sea green
perhaps to reflect the turbulent waters beneath
I felt like the sea.

I understand insecurities, the scars i have are real,
i understand issues with trust, i know just how you feel.
I get trust where i can, and seek it where i lack,
i understand to seek it there, even though behind my back.
so do not think that all i do is paint pictures of trust,
remember that i hold you dear, i pray, believe, you must.

rapture from my wrist
cold steel clinched in tight fists
not now, but maybe if it slips, if it slips
why can't i touch your lips? Whisper,maybe dance,
with a twist, with a twist
maybe a chance, maybe a kiss,
but for what, for this?
would i wreck it, all ive missed
for you? maybe once.
but not tonight, not with a tryst.

rhythym like that
makes the rain jealous
smile when you move
or its just not the same
rain makes my bones ache
and then i escape into sleep
i love you too... perhaps a bit too much
i just wanna wipe your tears
the way i wipe windows to stare out of them
on days like this when my own vision is foggy

people don't take enough showers in the dark.
those that do- or have know that
one of two things will happen,
either you feel yourself fill up the space like some gaseous soul
or you shrink as the void consumes you.
it differs from time to time.

Elaine never told
anyone at home
over the weekend

about the boy
who spoke to her
at school on the Friday

that some boy
spoke to her
without verbal abuse

or name calling
was quite a phenomenon
in itself

and if she told
her sister
she would have guffawed

and her father
would have said
who's speaking

to my squat hen?
and her mother
would have looked at her

as if to say you
and that imagination
of yours

so she kept it
to herself
tucked it into

her small *******
next to her heart
and repeated

what he had said
when no one
was around to listen

even in the bath
sitting there
breast high

in soapy suds
(borrowed
from her sister)

she went over
his words
and how

he had said them
and how
she had blushed

as he came up to her
on the sports field
as she stood

by the wire fence
away from others
hands in pockets

snuggled up
into her black coat
her head down

her black hair
center parted
untidily hanging

and said
most birds
have nested by June

but you can still see
where they've nested
she looked at him

wondering if it
was some kind of joke
and that others

may have put him
up to it
but none was there

he stood alone
his brown
brushed back hair

his hazel eyes
gazing into her
as if they saw

her soul
and were feeding there
o I suppose so

she said
her features she knew
had reddened

her words came
out of pitch
do you know much

about birds?
he asked
she gazed at him

standing there
one hand of his
on the fence

by her head
the other in his pocket
she fumbled

for more words
opening up her mind
from its exile

not really
she said
thought not

he said softly
girls don't tend to
I'm John by the way

he added
pointing to his chest
moving back

giving her room
to move
she hesitated

wondering if
she should tell him
her name

she bit her lip
then said
I'm Elaine

he smiled
nice name that
think Tennyson

wrote a poem
about a woman named that
or was it some other?

he looked distracted
for a moment
anyway that was

way back
he said bet
no one has written a poem

about you yet have they?
she looked at his forehead
there were lines there

as if he thought a lot
or maybe too much
no they haven't

she said
shame
he said

you look like
the type of girl
who needs a poem

written about them
she looked over his shoulder
a group of boys

were kicking ball
a group of girls
further over

were sitting on the grass
laughing and talking
but were not

looking her way
but seemed
other wise engaged

shouldn't think anyone
would write a poem
about me

she said
looking at her
black scuffed shoes

course they should
he said
I would

if I was that way
inclined
but I'm more a reader

than writer
she wondered why
he was speaking to her

why he was there
standing in front
of her

staring at her
with his hazel eyes
you've nice eyes

he said
chocolaty brown
and warm and deep

she felt out
of her comfort zone
as if she wandered

into someone else's head
the bell rang
from the school

lunch recess was over
and the boys
kicked the ball

into the tall grass
and the group of girls
rose up from the grass

and walked school wards
like cattle
at milking time

she looked back
at the building
through the wire fence

at the returning pupils
best get back
to being brain washed

he said
see you around
and he touched

her arm gently
as he moved away
walking in a slow

couldn't-care less
-if- I-go- there-pace
she watched him go

her feet
seemingly
rooted to the spot

and her body
was tingling
and feeling hot.

Who broke the rules,
Who broke your heart?
Why was the counter so sticky?
Even more beautiful in the rain
Or in the madness between your lungs.
Who broke the rules,
Who said it first?
Does it count if I lied through my teeth.
One rose for us all
But someone got there first and stole them all.
American as it seems it's still unfair.
Thank you for teaching me the sorrow in solidarity.
If the palm of your hand could cleanse each sin
blood would cover my body.

when i imagine, attempt to fathom, the essence of the color red
i am overtaken by the autumn leaves,
i, happily am brought to my knees ,
at the hands of the shivering breeze i,
imagine that the change is as true to the leaves as,
the reality of change, even of the color red, is to me, i
ought to remember flame thrown in crooked sweeps across my face,
fire spat against me when i sought embrace,
anger and hate, hurt and bitter traces of,
memories of crimson dipped lace, it,
was dipped in blood, see i remember that color too, but
if it was dipped in rubies it would look less like her and more like you
then, i might just be able to forget,
the times where she was wordless and my words were spent,
in her mind worth only the spit i spilled from my lips when
i, decided i would in good faith let my love of color loose lips,
shhh, this is not a time for painful trips.
divine roses i think have thorns embedded in their petals
their beauty is more  entwined, inseparable,
than those dying plants i find scattered at the will of God and whimsical gardeners
i have found earth that is so deep rich and red
that i forget about all the dreams i had of my last lover, and past lovers in my bed,
then i realize just how mixed up in my head this color is, i
twist to do what i think is untwist, my
head is wrapped up in this corundum conundrum
, but less i think than the rust flecked fist sized
writhing flesh in my chest, doing its dance more erratically than  explosions from
bombs dropped on cities where i don't live
(why should i care?)
well, red. . .
red. . .
is the color of your hair.

I sit here trying over and over again
To make my pin bleed, to hear the words sing
But nothing, my thoughts just tumble over themselves
Like laundry that will never quite be clean
Sunday night I will come back to what I left
My old life, old friends
Different now than I was then
I don’t want a disconnect for who I am and where I have been
I found brilliance and light inside myself
I hope you see it, but I doubt it
I look the same, it’s a deep place I found it.
I wonder what eyes will see
What a brilliant glow might bring.