The third moon brought forth from the shadow dark.
Gentle breeze freewheeled across the lakeshore.
Windswept was the air, in peace night was marked-
Unyielding stillness, blooming fairness more.

Silky pastel cloth, gushing curtain soft.
The window let in hushed waft soothing cool.
Fixed firmly on shore with poles planted stiff,
A pavilion meek light heartened the pool.

By the portico was a tree bent down
Whose white flowers bloomed lovely as a nymph.
Its jagged branches, lumped of golden-brown,
Delicately grown each emerald leaf.

Underneath its shades were cheery plantlets;
Pebbles hard and cold; red earth spongy ground;
Flying whirly bugs, glittering bead lets.
Fair maiden deferred, there then can be found.

Pleasing to the eye, that dignified dress
In white noble silk with fine needlecraft.
Regal as she stood, just for a mistress.
Mystic was her eyes, a soul was grafted.

Filled with potent life in her burning stare.
Profound as the deep, tranquil as it surge.
One may glimpse straight to, utmost one can't bare.
To its mysteries, one gave in and urged.

Verdant her hair was, hearty as it shone.
Longer than she was, white as the moonlight.
In her neck are chains, beads and shells she owned.
Varies in sizes, things that make her bright.

Against the groaning mast I stand,
  The Atlantic surges swell,
To bear me from my native land
  And Zoe's wild farewell.

From billow upon billow hurl'd
  I can yet hear her say,
'And is there nothing in the world
  Worth one short hour's delay?'

'Alas, my Zoe! were it thus,
  I should not sail alone,
Nor seas nor fates had parted us,
  But are you all my own?'

Thus were it, never would burst forth
  My sighs, Heaven knows how true!
But, though to me of little worth,
  The world is much to you.

'Yes,' you shall say, when once the dream
  (So hard to break!) is o'er,
'My love was very dear to him,
  My fame and peace were more.'

I think I was thirteen
when I shipped myself out
to the sea of solitude
since then I've tried rowing
back to shore but
currents of discontent
are hard to fight
inevitably I gave in
to the candy-coated
pills and powders
and the minty fresh breath
of men lurking in corners
almost as sweet as sanity
eventually I overdosed on emotions
but I was only trying
to rid myself of feeling
since I was never good
at walking on the tightrope
between wanting and reality
at this point I don't know
who to apologize to
since Hallmark doesn't have cards
for sincere self loathing

it's just that
some days it's really hard
to keep your voice even
when your mother asks
if you're slipping

I have memorized the silence in your eyes,
which hides a world beyond the film of blue,
a world of words unspoken, hid’n in lieu
of letting me into your mind. Were these lies
You spoke to me to cleanse my brain, appease
these gnawing thoughts like beetles making home
in tender tissue, insecure in roam-
ing, ever-changing emotions like these?
But why be anxious over your desire?
Such careless, ambling adoration my
still heart protests. I do not need a vow
of love in certainty, but merely hand o’er
a soft embrace in secret spaces. Sigh
in place of words, and we’ll stay here for now.

I watched you place your hands gently on the surface,
and, one finger at a time, probe into the crust,
dust working its way beneath the crescent whites
of your fingernails.
I sat beside you, though your shoulders turned from me,
while you continued to feel your hands into the cracks
in the crust, deliberately, delicately, so sweet.
I had let the moon’s gravity pull me up toward you,
your boyish smile toying with my body
until I could not resist the month alone on your world,
held in close by the purest space.
But your grin had not been for me —
rather for your lady love, dear Luna,
who filled your softened gaze with her pale glow.
And so, as the moon met the earth once more,
I dug my heels into the dust beneath me
and flew into that void between gravities,
knowing that the earth would embrace me again.
And I will love the moon from far below,
to know that I have seen her in your eyes.

I just needed someone to talk to
A shoulder to cry on
An open ear to hear my worries or
Just talk about life in general.

Surrounded by family, friends, social media
You would think that would be easy to find.
I guess it was - I found you
(or you found me, when I was searching).

I said the right thing at the right time;
or it meant something important to you;
or you said the right thing
about what it meant to me -
whatever the case may be -
We met.  We talked.  We opened our deepest archives.
I told you things I never revealed to anyone.
I guess I felt my secrets were safe with you;
I guess I trusted you.

You seemed to understand me.
You treasured the new perspectives I shared with you.
You wanted what I could give you -
that you never had before.
You needed something to hold onto:
Hope; security; belonging.

I had nothing to hide from you,
I just wanted to talk.
You were a blank canvas that I could paint all of my life's experiences on.
A fresh paint - The pictures were clearer to you.
You were amazed, astounded by my originality, genuineness.
You said you could fall in love with me.
I told you not to - we couldn't help it though.

You loved me selfishly - you needed me almost every minute of every day.
You asked things of me that others had asked for & been denied.
But for some reason, I wanted to give those things to you.
Where once I disguised my heart, or kept it tightly locked up & hidden,
You made me strip off every layer that hid it,
I stripped my heart "Naked" for you - unprotected, vulnerable, defenseless.

You were badly wounded & beaten
by so many who "hated" you from your past.
I wanted to heal your wounds.
I am a caretaker,
A nurturer, a healer.
You trusted me.
Gradually, the pain of your past lessened:
The joy of your possible future = the salve.

As I, you needed a shoulder - I gave you both.
I carried you - you became heavy.
As long as I had the strength or the means or the will
You were happy, content, cooperative.

Really what did I ask of you? Just one simple request.
You could not agree.
I don't fault you for that -
We all have free will.
But I LITERALLY gave you EVERYTHING!!!
Interest-free...

Music? Should I be inspired
By what moves someone else's heart?
I don't know them,
I thought I knew you.
I was wrong.

I said it wouldn't happen,
I wouldn't let it happen;
I warned you that it could:
But I resented that you expected what I gave you!
Only after I told you that I had to draw the line
Did you say you should never have asked.
But you did? You never refused.
I always said yes...

...Until today.
Our last goodbye.
The pain faded fast,
Quickly followed by the realization
That you used me!!
You got All you needed from me.

And you may think I received nothing from you,
But you gave me lots:
Another wound to heal,
Another lesson learned,
Another failed attempt to save someone who is already dead.
Another mistake,
Another story to tell,
Another poem to write,
Another mystery for me to unravel -
about why I always let this happen to me,
why I always give so much to get so little.
What does it really do for me?

I LOVED THE IDEA OF BEING YOUR "EVERYTHING" - I LOVED THAT YOU NEEDED ME - I LOVED THAT YOU WANTED & DESIRED ME - I LOVED THAT I WAS THE ONLY GOOD THING IN YOUR LIFE - I LOVED BEING ABLE TO SHARE MY KNOWLEDGE WITH YOU - I LOVED HOW MUCH YOU ENVIED ME - I LOVED CRYING WHEN YOU HURT ME (BECAUSE I THOUGHT THAT IT MEANT MY LOVE WAS REAL) .......

*I loved being strong enough to walk away for the last time........