On days like this,
I am more thank you
than apology.
More welcome party
than goodbye affair.

On days like this,
men can't shut my voice
into a casket.
No person can sift my heart
into a dustpan.

On days like this,
my voice is gospelled choir
a hopeful tune
My heart refuses to unsing
a joyous song.

On days like this,
I am phoenix
brushing cinder
off infant wings.
I am honey
to your honeysuckle.
I am bowing apex
off a tidal wave.
I am fresh picked book
opening up
to new hands.

On days like this,
I am no ocean
with finite shores.
I am skyline.
I am boundless
beginning.
I rewrite.
I renew.
I begin again.

If you could only unsee the things you wish you never saw.
If you could only unhear the things you wish they’d never said.
If you could only unsing the song you knew you didn’t mean.
If you could only unlove the ones who hurt you like there never was.
If you could only untouch the souls of the people you moved.
If you could only unsmell the scents you’d otherwise never forget.
If you could only untaste those lips upon your own.
If I could only pretend not to be..

I can’t undo what has been done.
Cannot unsing a song that’s been sung.
The guilt I feel over this deception,
Clouded by lust from my exception.

I never thought I’d be the one insincere,
Until we met and you drew me near.
Though it was wrong, it felt so right.
I tried to say no, but I lost the fight.

How do I crawl back into my old bed,
When there is so much left unsaid?
I will forever carry the weight of this secret,
and force myself to keep it.

Your lips begin sweet lullabies:
a love made into voice
to ease a cradled child’s cries.

Loving Mother, you ask no “Why’s?”
the babe wants not her toys -
'tis lips sing out sweet lullabies.

Would come the day - I’m full of tries
to keep from her those boys
could cause my cradled child’s cries.

Your lover’s hands upon my thighs...
those days your mouth played coy;
what lips to sing sweet lullabies!

These, my unlived memories - lies
unborn and full of noise:
our gently cradled child cries.

Now - in quiet contemplation, I
unmake my every choice:
What gently cradled child cries
when my lips unsing lullabies?