I want to be painted onto the canvas of your future
and carved into the floorboards of your past
my love for you is deeper than the Atlantic
and I am the tide
constantly returning to your shore line
no matter how many times I'm turned away.
I once asked my mother
what the most tragic love story was
and she said it was the story of the moon and the sun
Cursed to live apart for eternity
only meeting briefly
at dusk
but with that
comes the beauty of the sunset
and these bruises
they are proof that the color spectrum
Does not hold enough reds and blues
to paint my endless sea of love
On to the canvas of your future

He is a seashell and I am the ocean, but it is not his fault.

He can only hold so many grains of salt or sand, he can only catch so many china       tears before they hit the floor and shatter into a billion disappointed slivers, never to be collected or krazy-glued.

It is not his fault.

In today’s society, it is preferred to be flat.

                     So he is blessed, my skipping stone.

It’s the people like me—the bottomless ravines—

That get lost in ourselves
                         That vacuum up lost puppies and paper cuts and hold them with us                                        so tightly that we’re guaranteed to spill over.

But we don’t. No, not even the slightest.

We just get deeper and deeper to make room for the cold water.
       We build secret gardens to plant poisonous roots and we hide them in our green teas and salads.
               We draw lemniscate maps that loop treasure hunters around our hearts, searching forever.
                          We shun the sturdy carp and send love letters to fickle anglers and glumfish.
                                       We refuse to die in our sleep.

His favorite drink is water and his favorite color is blue.
     My favorite drink is whiskey and my favorite color
Is alabaster when it’s raining,
                                     sea foam green if I’m trying,
                                                                               and violet when I’m in the mood.

1
I remember her body against me

She tells me she doesn't want to get hurt
That I will break her heart

You can break me like a wishbone
and keep the better half

Sharpen it like a prison shiv
and stab me with it if I do

2
She is the snow
I am a stove in a single room cabin

I have been cutting off parts of this home
and feeding them into my belly

There is sawdust
on the floor of my love

3
Most of this house is gone now
I am still a stove
she is still snow

We both think
this heat is a good idea

I keep burning

Call her iglu
Call her daring
Call me almost homeless

4
I have left the stove

I am a candle now

Slow burning

Call me always hot still

Call her always melting

The floor is always wet

5
I tried to trap the ocean
in a dresser drawer

But we were flooded roofless

I learned to hold my breath

She learned that warmth doesn't really change anything

There was the sun
and it heated her body

I bathed in the ocean
she made
a thin
near burnt candle

I sank down

Her heart was made of winning halves of wishbones
Sharpened like shivs

I did not go near them

I am not afraid of getting hurt
But I have always been taught
to respect the sea

History can be a mystery
It can be what defines us
Or it can be what we try
To hide when we look at
Our lives and we realize
Our history makes up a
Little more of us than we
Would like to pretend but
Ultimately you have to
Accept your history so
It wont be a mystery and
You can move forward
With clarity in your
Life and understanding
That your journey is
Not as confusing or
As complicated as
We make it out

I strike a hot match against those Front-Porch-Sitting-Mowing Freaks who live across the street.

I'm out there every morning;
Afternoons, too,  
My grass stands tall,
And my fingers dance lightly across my dulcimer.

I'm strumming 'Wildwood Flower', mistakes and all.
I get serious with 'Whiskey Before Breakfast', not well done.
But then I break out with '******* Creek.'
And who can fault me for that one?
It's a happy tune, done well, or poorly.

Those **** neighbors sit across the way.
They don't even bother to stare.

Something has changed.
There is still no sparkle in their eyes,
But I am happy.

*It isn't my job to entertain the world.

I cast my ear
Strain to hear
The feeling within the tune

In my soul
Lift this toll
My mood you are attune

Lift my spirit
So I can hear it
Connect me to the feeling

An inspiration
The imagination
To my bones, the words are healing

Sing me a dream
Words to deem
Play that special note

My body moves
Feeling the groove
My vibe you have wrote

I could sit in the sand, and forever stare at the ocean,
Counting the grains before they wash into the sea.
But I’ll choose to stay ahead of the tide,
So the waves will never catch up with me.

I can’t drown if I never set foot in the water,
I can’t shine unless I’m in the dark.
I can’t miss you if I never let you go,
And I can’t mend an unbroken heart.

I can’t turn back time to get you back,
I can’t pretend that nothing is wrong.
I can’t act like losing you was easy,
And I can’t accept that you’re gone.

One day I’ll see you again,
One day we’ll be together.
One day I will get you back, never let you go.
And one day we will start forever.

I could go on forever realizing what I can’t do,
Or I could pass the time with joyful things,
And count down the time until I see you.