The dawn of it
Beckons and bewilders certain parts of me
The parts that do not write poetry
The parts that cannot sit still long enough
To watch the sun rise

 

After so much dark
The light is stark at first
A quench to my thirst

The birth of something new
As delicate as day

On Losing Myself

In memories I have since dismissed
and kisses I can no longer taste
I loved you
With my deepest and damnedest
With so much force
It broke us into several pieces
It came shattering down
In a dramatic show
The sound of it echoing off
The world I had known
Reverberating back:
'I told you so'

It became a source of pain
To dwell on the remains
I lived in funeral black and endless gray
Hanging on the edge of that cliff
Built by weighty words you would say
They kept me clung
But, too, they kept me from ever reaching you
I stopped showing up in mirrors
For fear of my reflection

Bloody and beaten hands gripped that cliff tight
Then one night, they began to climb
Near the top, there was muted sunshine
hiding behind a cloud
After a night so long,
I questioned whether dawn still existed
My body quivered, but my heart persisted
Upon the mount, the sun broke
And my shadow stood
I gasped because I forgot it could
But here it was:
Blatant proof of my existence

The wind blows cold tonight

Through weeping willows and cracked car windows

It is bone chilling on bare arms 

who ache

to wrap themselves around something more

My head gives my heart the old 'do or die'

 My heart does not have the guts to go all in

Pocket aces but their stone-cold faces

Make it feel like I can never win

                                               

I have set my own life on fire

And it is raging

But I do not move from where I stand

Watch it burn with a lack of concern

Smeared across my face like a sun tan

I am apathetic to a lot lately,

Not just you

I just do not particularly care

And if that is not fair

Well, I know it is not, but

I was always the one to care

Always the one left standing there

When it was burning to the ground

Looking around for the arsonist

Who just so happens to double

As an illusionist

Scattered ashes

From something that never matches expectations

So I have none, and

You have no chance at disappointing me

Or putting out the fire

Since it is not a flame of desire

It does not burn for you

It does not fuel off any particular concern for you

But if you are able to handle that

Then, by all means

Light a match

A gift

A truth

Fireworks from my Grandma's roof

Distilled desire in a Pepsi can

I drink it while I'm young

While I still can

A few pounds over par

But a shot to the green

A hovering hope

The size of a SCREAM

Your eyes and something

I had never had

Made skinned knees and splinters

Hardly seem as bad

An icy cold December

A New Year's revelation

He sat and ate my heart out

I suffered through starvation

A pause

A tremble

It sounded so fun

But the Pepsi can is empty

The fireworks are done

My mother's in the shallow end

And as I'm diving in

I remember that July

When I learned (again)

How to swim

In Death

In death, I imagine love as the breeze
That dances through beautiful things like blooming flowers
And if this love was ever only ours
It is so much bigger now

Indefinable and immeasurable
But concrete too
It is the coo of child
The scene on a mild summer evening
When the sun sets just right
And omits the perfect amount of light

In death, love is always, always right
Ever-lasting and ever-blowing
Love is all-knowing
It survives after reason
Season upon season
Till our bones are dust and swept in the breeze, and
I think that breeze is love