help.

I have tended to it well. The narrowing of my heart, the blindness of my vision have all been products of my own design. I cannot see clearly where my path is going anymore. What sadness this must be to feel so heavy and unrelenting, to eliminate a world of feeling and to unravel me in such a way.

There are no stars tonight, or at least, this is the first time I have looked up from this vantage point. The sharp trill of children’s laughter in some far off corner tickles the landscape, but otherwise I am alone and shapeless.

And what is it that I want? What is it that drives me to such desperate desolation, to carve myself into insurmountable cliffs?

I like to think that I seek ease, but I have it. I have it, but do not feel it.  When I feel it, I do not accept it. So perhaps there it is. I do not allow myself acceptance.

Happiness is a hunger so unfulfilled.

mined.

so many little traps
and i step on every
single
one.

seeking

I have taken my love to great distances.

Below the sea, we have moved and danced in the way that all life there sways. In the mountains, trekking to the highest peak, I watched sunlight drip from your hair.

Yesterday, in the dark, we built a cave, where our haggard breathing bounced off the walls, like the rustling of autumn leaves.

Deep within this sound we found shimmering mirrors, and, laughing, ran from one to the next, for fear of being caught.

2

oxygen

We have stopped and become tender. How has it happened? There was no ticking clock to count down the time to when we became frayed, only moments that chipped away endlessly.

Chip, chip, chip.

Our song was sung from lips that tasted fire and blushed crimson, but now you know how to take me apart, and you do so mercilessly and without knowing. Give it back to me.

Hand me over. Please.

3

the bear and the dipper

your skin is a night sky
lit by freckles,
and i swim
and play all night,
creating new constellations.

1

days;

I have swept the floor.
I have washed the sheets.
I have watered the flowers.
I have cooked the meals.
I have dried the dishes.
I have read the books.
Tomorrow waits,
but I have filled my day.

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trail

What will you leave this time?
A stray hair or your coat,
a smile pressed into the pillowcase,
or maybe a note on the fridge.
Whatever it is,
though of you
and from you,
it is not you.

God, it’s not you.

carvings

It is the frame on the wall
glistening in the afternoon sunlight,
a glare striking like lightning
along your fragmented smile

a smile wound in living without
for far too long

this I have kept safe for you
as promised.

2

little

Remember what you used to whisper to me
before our love became stillborn?

Nothing.

2

At last, alas

It has been some time
since I last walked through this place.

Leaves have browned,
friends now lovers,
and many lovers
now strangers.

In a world of instant connection,
and easy reconnection,

I have lived removed

from these halls
of cracked plaster and egg white.

The faint smell of dust is comforting,
the frayed carpet soft.

Peering through the lavender curtains
I see a familiar shape
welcoming me

deep
deep
deep into the warmth
I go.

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