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 Mar 2014 tom krutilla
SM
A Remedy
 Mar 2014 tom krutilla
SM
If I were air, I’d be the wind on your face as you try to get away on your bike.
Caressing the curvature from your cheekbones to your chin.

If I were brightness, I’d be the flame from your lighter.
Here to light your cigarettes and candles.

If I were clothing, I’d be your t-shirt.
Listening to you inhale defeat and exhale content.

If I were the darkness, I’d be your shadow.
Ever present during the day and holding you at night.

If I were a mystery, I’d be the ocean
You could discover my depth.

If I were a beat, I’d be the ticking of your wristwatch.
A reminder each second that time progresses.

If I were words, I’d arrange myself into a book.
A story to keep you company in the winter.

If I were a spirit, I’d be a ghost.
Silently witnessing how you live.

If I were an addiction, I’d be your last cigarette.
You’d desire to get more of my flavor.

If I were hopefulness, I’d be your ambitions.
In hope that you’d find me buried somewhere in your dreams.

If I were a body part, I’d be your fingernails.
Close to your lips when you become anxious.

If I were a color, I’d be red.
Living within your veins.

But I am not.
You put your hand up to block the wind.
You only strike my flame for a moment, and then put me out.
All I hear are empty sighs
And you’ve become afraid of what is in the darkness.
You’ve learned swim to shore, to escape my vastness
And my loud ticking at night drives you insane.
You’ve read me to boredom.
I feel your presence, but you feel none of mine.
You’ve smoked too much and can’t feel the high anymore,
And you do not dream any more. You only have nightmares.
Your nails are now bitten to the bone.
And you’ve bled yourself dry.
I will be like a tree to you
neath whose shade you lie
as the days pull you down
and my branches long for
the pull of your weight-
the only kind I will allow
to pull me down.

Painless is the way
I shed my leaves for you,
die a slow death
all for your love for a golden autumn,
and again I come back to life for you,
because winter is a lonely business.

Your faith in my hold
is strengthened over these glad years,
unbreakable perhaps,
like how my roots are interwoven
into your ribs.

My poetry is eternal for you,
growing each day
and when you cut me open,
the rings will tell you of the years
I bled for you.

I will be a tree to you,
your very own Eden,
and the day I die,
I hope my roots reach out to you
when the time comes for you to
marry into the earth.

Only a vehement storm
can put me down.
I hate myself right now.
 Mar 2014 tom krutilla
LF
I fell in love with the way your demons slow danced with mine , twirling around the floor so gracefully i forgot i was flawed.
How wonderful it must be to have someone love all the parts of you, even the filthy ones.
 Mar 2014 tom krutilla
iridescent
When our time comes,
float down like
autumn leaves.

Make our descents
with graceful pirouttes
guided by the soft winds;
empty branches will
leave behind reasons
for the fiery red that once laid
to be missed;
and light that seeps through
the hollow canopy shall
cleanse our fallen souls.

So when our time comes,
float down like autumn leaves.
Wear white gowns
that snowflakes weaved for us;
leave no more
footprints in the ground,
we've trampled on
their hearts enough;
bittersweet when they
think of us dancing above,
weightless and unrestrained.
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