she would hug me
when all the anger and sadness
and depression got too much
and in a moment of final weakness
I would cry tears as
my way of praying
and she would come, like a god,
and take me into her arms
whispering to me, cooing me,
telling me that all was forgiven,
all would be okay, and,
eventually, once the shudders
had stopped but the tears were
still wet on my face I would
raise my head and  look
into her beautiful eyes
and she would smile then
and kiss me with her soft lips
and it was only then that I knew
how to forgive myself, to forgive
god, forgive the universe, and
move on, holding her hand
until I could run free again
and go and get my heart hurt
all over again

there is a beautiful world
just outside my window,
unattainable and smug.

it’s loud in here
between my eyes
and my soul
in the neural synapses
that make up the “me”
that we all know
and when I ask you to
say it again or
speak up
or yell
know
it’s nothing
to do with you
and all do with the
rushing whir of gears
that I long ago
stopped trying
to quiet

she’ll start smoking
               eventually

                  after her boyfriend celebrates
                           his third anniversary with his
                           seven dollar an hour job

                  after she can’t find a school
                           that will accept her since she
                           was kicked out of her other
                           school in the first place

                  after her brother finishes high
                           school and promptly does nothing
                           with his life

                  after her boss brings her down
                           to five hours a week

                  after her car breaks down, but
                           she can’t afford to fix it, so she
                           leaves it broken down

                 after she sees the same movie
                           for the third time in a row at
                           three in the afternoon

                after she drinks all night and
                         wakes up in the morning not
                         hung over

                after the hundredth argument
                         she has with her parents

                after the third apartment she’s
                         been kicked out of

                after the thousandth time she’s
                         faked an ****** (but before her
                         first real one)

                after she decides she’ll marry
                         him, because, in the end,
                         at least he’s a good guy

after all that, she’ll decide
that the risks aren’t really
           that bad any more

he reached out
with his cold hands
not to injur others
but to try and find
some warmth
for himself

you had the voice
and body of a goddess

the kind
worshipped by natives
in the thralls of
their drug-induced
dances

they prayed
that you would
feed their lands
and
give life
to their crops

they sacrificed
virgins and
children and
their enemies

you taught the birds
how to sing
and
the day
how to be beautiful

your lips were
the entrance to
heaven

how I worshipped you too,
silently, in the moonlight
when I awoke at two AM
like I so often did

your hair would drape
over your eyes
and
your face
would seem unconcerned
so full of love
ethereal
not of this world

a sight that would put me at rest,
lulling me back into sleep, but,
as the native heathens learned,
not all gods are meant to be gods
and good worship is scarcely
a guarantee of good  fortune

your folly lied in everything
that made you perfect

your detachment
your care-free-nature
that you were a goddess
trapped in a mortal world

though I grew
and stretched out my limbs
upwards towards the sun
there was no way a mere man
could teach a goddess
how to celebrate
all this beauty
she had made
possible

all that’s left is ruins
holding within them
the stories of so many

but the jungle barely notices
as her vines begin to reclaim
that which is rightfully hers