He came into my bedroom last night,
As I curled up,
Burrowed deep into the covers
Searching for his arms.
In my head were demons
Chasing little me around.
He came in.
He banished them away,
Tall, beautiful.
Mine.
Above me, he stared at me as I dreamt
Of his eyes,
That mesmerizing voice
Soothing my fear...
He stared one last time.
He leaned down,
And kissed me.
Supple, soft.
Endearingly, as if I was as fragile as I looked,
As if I would break.
He forgot everything I've been through
While I lay, vulnerable.
He kissed me anyways,
Those tender lips...
He took away all the shivers
And took me away to a land far away,
A safer place.

But he stood up, and walked out the door afterwards.
To go to his own safe place.
Somewhere no one could hurt him,
Somewhere no one would come for him.

He just forgot to take me with him.

What if I am a figment of my imagination?

Sometimes all we have to do
all there is to do
is to hold on to the ledge,
tightly, until straining veins
at the back of our hands
grow like roots seeking water,
until sore fingers silently pray
under the weight of our predicament
as we wait for the storm

and when it starts, some days
it can be as bearable
as accidentally slamming the door
on a finger, heart pounding wildly,
calling out in suffocation,
deep within the confines of soft tissues

other days, it seems to take a deep breath
pulling back heavily on the whip
before striking with barbed malice,
trying to pry open
the hinges holding our inner beings.

At one point, the winds of time
will slowly blow the dark clouds south
bringing oxygen, nutrients and hope
and we can let go of that ledge
turn around with a fortified soul
and step into the sunshine.

My anxiety gets worse
and I think I'm about to burst
every time you are near
and the pain I can never even bear.

Even those
with
the iciest blood
and
the bluest hearts
still have
moments
where they wish
there was someone
they could wake
in the middle of the night
and whisper
"This has happened to me
and it is not ok
and I am scared."

You once called me your luna
Your moon
Lighting your path in the dark
Always hovering
Watching over you

You are my sol
My sun
Bathing my meadows and oceans
In the radiance of your light
Raining nourishment and life

All I have now are the lonely stars
Consoling me with their cold stares
A bitter substitute for your smile
As I await the breaking of dawn

How I loathe these vigils
Whose arduousness I forget
The moment our eyes and lips meet
And light floods my solitude anew.

SWEETHEART,

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE CURE.

AND

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE DISEASE.