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There is a film 
on continuous replay 
where I see you sleeping 

I cry 
frozen by too many choices 
barricaded behind 
a concrete wall 
of too many emotions 
feeling wrong 
but 
oh so right 
threading awareness 
fleeting time 
cancered chances 

There is a film on 
continuous replay 
where I see you sleeping 

I cry

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Lover Mine; No. 1

If you speak to me,

Please understand this:

 

You have no right to know who I am. 

Anything you have to say to me is

Meant for a girl you once knew.

I am not her.

 

I am not the ashes, heap of ashes,

You left in your wake. I am not 

The tears you once wiped from my eyes,

I am not the ones you once cried.

 

I am not the one who made you 

What you are. I am not the fire

At your tongue. I am not the trophy

You once won. 

 

I am not the pretty broken thing,

Busted bird with a busted wing,

I am not the one who held the

Words you said. I did not share your bed.

 

I am not your veiled, weeping sun, and I

Am not your laughing half-moon. Yes,

We're gone. We ended too soon, but frankly

I'm not here to swoon over you. 

 

I am not your lover, though I loved you so,

I am the winter and I am the snow,

Beautiful and cold, I am the place you're still

Stuck; intrepid soles sinking into mud.

 

You may have killed me, lover mine,

But I stand here breathing, one of a kind,

And, darling, I'm back for your blood. 

 

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lover dearest, you break like bones in my hands

do not fall in love with me

if you don't want to be broken.

i am a glass-shattering rain

my eyes are the eyes of a storm,

yours are transparent windowpanes.

when i am done with you

you will understand why hurricanes

and people share the same names.

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empty

The flames flicker
Red hot coals
Pulsating
A rhythmic glow
My love burning
Time through the glass
And
You

Choosing the burn
Elevate the pain
I have nothing left

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I know, sweetheart

I’ve been fooled before
just as you have
with stories
and smiles and situations
that make us feel as though,
there
it
is.
there’s the feeling
there’s the one
only to find out,

it’s just another thanksgiving meal
not quite Christmas
not quite all hallows eve

So we rest in being fooled
and we laugh along
because the fool isn’t something done
on purpose
it’s just done.

we laugh along because we don’t
want them to know it hurts
we don’t want them to know the pain…
and it’s our hearts that suffer through it
moreover than theirs.

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hardest


the hardest part
of you and i
is not in saying hello
but in saying
goodbye

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please stay

 

like oxygen to fire

sun to the earth

life to the heart

 

I will be consumed by your absence

 

stay

and make me your home

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My best friend has fallen in love

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I tell everyone......

 

I tell everyone about you

 

I tell them of the sunlight in your smile, the ocean in your eyes. I tell

them how my love for you is a mountain. Unshakeable. I tell them how you loved

me once but like the forest you grew too fast and i was lost in the undergrowth

as you reached for the heavens.

 

I try to explain that my love for you is not destructive and though one sided as it

is, you make me well. My failings diminish and I feel almost worthy of attention

but there is only one who's attention I seek to hold. But you look to the sea shore as I

float to snow covered peaks, my soul; no longer burdened by twenty-one grams is

carried to heights by a dreamers dream of lightning dancing with water. I try to

explain that my love for you is not destructive

 

I tell them how I love you and now they don't call me anymore because they

cannot understand how I speak of love and it tastes like pain. They cannot

understand the chaos of longing unreturned tattooed across my brow even as your

name stains my lips with joy as it spills forth

 

I try to explain with a smile but the tears fall. I smile and cry all at once

and my voice fails me for your residue in my soul lifts me to such heights that

I cannot breathe. The boundaries of the sky are not for the living so I am torn

back to the dust and mud by the gravity of your face turning away from mine,

crashing down with anchors around my waist sculpted by words said in haste only to

be reworked and shaped for another. Words hung in both our galleries but I know

the form and flow, it is not a new piece He holds but one stolen from the walls

in me and replaced with counterfeit nothings. Watermarks cannot be reproduced

and those that stain my face are far from dry.

 

Does He know that those words painted on his chest are mine? That the art

staining his flesh is an echo of the masterpiece that you sketched across my

bones? They are watercolors that leak from my broken eyes, I am losing you one

drop at a time but you are an ocean and I will shed floods of you and still

drown each morning

 

Some have said move on, some say get over it.

 

But there is nowhere to move on the mountains peak, how can I get over you

when you are Everest? I am standing on top of the world and there is but one

place higher, though I am not Icarus. You know, it takes forty two and a half

seconds to fall from the roof of the world. Thats seventy three i love you's and damn it if i

dont say them every time...

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Words do no justice

 

I dreamt in poetry last night, I cannot remember a single word but I felt the art in my bones. Tried as I did to recall the pentameter it eluded my thoughts, fleeting shadows of metaphor and beauty. But you were there. This I know.

The image was spring mist and pastel blur, shifting heart-swells carried me aloft. I felt you rather than witnessed and that was far more tangible for the viewing. Perhaps there was not poetry as verse or couplet but movement and sensation, the enchanting poetry of your soul infused with my dreamscape. Whatever the truth of brushstrokes laid on masterpieces of desire, we were there and poetry was your sweet breath across my cheek.

I dreamt in poetry last night and awoke to find the stanzas contained no words, only you.