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Burnt to a cinder

Ideas are matches They light fires in spaces devoid of reason and dismissive of logic The idea of a person will haunt those spaces long after the reality shows you different You created your hearts desire then you kept it in memoriam when it couldn't withstand the light You told yourself "How could it not be perfect still?"  And then you stood aside as it bled into all that was good about you When it seeped into the carpet and made the tear stained patches crackle and pop You told yourself "Everything that's worth something hurts" You ran along side it as it streamed into the gulleys that fed your spirit  And it poisoned you.  Poisoned you into a mere shadow of yourself...  And still you told yourself "If I could come this far then it must be mine" And then you blew away... Burnt to a cinder by smoke and mirrors
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The unifying salt of it all I taste my name in yesterdays uttering Every kiss affirms it Deep and knowing Then its everywhere Every crease and fold Salting Pulsing Whirring Then its there Just there... And we are encased in it With a totality that does not ebb Until you've given of yourself Completely Saltily Eternally!
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"What does love represent to you? How does yours differ from the imagery and literature around you?" Fear...  I need for her to... Whisper It Make it small enough for a shirt pocket or a purse Make it light enough to carry with me every where Make it so nonthreatening my heart doesn't know to be afraid... Anxiety... I've seen people get stuck Completely and for what feels like forever In what way can the past be such a burden? Now that I've met her Now that I've seen the face of happiness I know that if she dropped my hand I'd be indentured to my past For it would always be better than my present... Self-Awareness... She knows I don't have god in me, why does she request what's not in me? Is it in the way the thicket sometimes holds marvels instead of horrors Is it in the way we search for ship wrecks like tragic treasure I couldn't be that for her Until she showed me otherwise....  **Conversat ions on bar st ools in
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Intimacy- In to me see

I missed it, The moment you stole the key... Now we shiver from exposure. You with the duplicate in hand, A turn coat and his turn key. Me scampering to hide from this reading of my living, A recluse and her veil.
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Soul Hurt

Look what your hands have done... They held the funnel and let you pour in and out of yourself when the restraint was overwhelming They padded your face while you fought against your worst, ripping at the betrayal in your skin They crawled out even as you dug the earth to lie gently beside your yesterday They pieced together your frame for a picture of what comes next And clenched tightly around your happy Look what your hands have done... They stopped time to let your loss spin you back to stillness.
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Vagary

What are you? My own wind vain pointing every which way even when the breeze is light and healing even in the cool of certainty your heat makes you thrash What is this fever heart sibling, that sometimes brings snow then sun Blue then green What are you... My own mood ring feeling acute changes in infinity even though you can't quantify it I speak in honeyed litanies to atone you but your own bursts daze your spirit What is this image heart sibling that takes hues to shades simple to complicated Won't you hold... Just a minute... An hour... A day... So I can see you.
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So Long

Vagary do you find me ungrateful? We're hit by your betrayal then we drown for a little bit and forget forget to remember why our chests are clogged and leaking And repeat Love was cyclic between us I think love forgot Wiped from a landscape because the players are in spin But you stay my haste and say Breathe and wait for our repose Leave the titles on the slots and wait Settle your feet when they hurry to take you away, wait Love is not forgot We are not forgot I couldn't wait any longer Think me ungrateful but think of me as I of you Whenever I can clamp down and fell the forest of pain In the moments the wind carries you to me Sometimes the whelps ache for just you For the timbre in your brand of healing Bruce Springsteen sang "There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away" But there are dusty shrines on the feet of all the girls that had to leave...
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