I don’t know what we were, or where we were going.
Maybe that’s why you left. Maybe it wasn’t me at all.
It hurt going to bed to “I love you” and waking to an empty screen.
My heart was cut open and I bled freely.
But I patched myself up. I told myself the Why didn’t matter.
The Why wasn’t mine to know and that would have to be OK.
I still missed you, but the pain was healing, my heart scabbing over.
But all contact wasn’t gone. I had your music. So I listened.
And “I was getting used to being someone you loved” all over again.
Until that song hit me.
Fuck the bandaid, you tore off the whole scab and you’re not even here to watch me bleed.
It’s not your fault though. You didn’t know I’d listen.
You didn’t know how that song would hit me.
You didn’t make me listen.
I did it to myself.
But I wish you were here to watch me bleed and kiss away the pain.
Category: poetry
The Witchling Kiki
It was many and many a year ago, In a village by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Witchling Kiki; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this village by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Witchling Kiki— With a love that the crows from the woods above Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this village by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Witchling Kiki; So that her high broom flying came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this village by the sea. The crows, not half so happy in the trees, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this village by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Witchling Kiki. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the crows in the sky above Nor the witches roaming the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Witchling Kiki. For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Witchling Kiki; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Witchling Kiki; And so, all the night-tide, I ride by the side Of my witchling—my witchling—my life and my guide, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Love Is …
Love is a place.
A safe space,
Where you can be you, without fear.
Without judgment or reprisal; just to be clear.
Love is online, a community that fosters your growth.
Love is a home that supports and offers a troth.
Love is that one diner
Where you and your tribe couldn’t be finer.
But love is not *every* place.
Love is a person. They ask if you’ve eaten.
That ride-or-die friend that just cannot be beaten.
They tell you to drive carefully and text when you’re home.
They add color to life when it turns monochrome.
They listen; hold space.
They offer care and grace.
But love is not *every* person.
Love is a thing. A reminder of hope.
A hug in order to cope.
Love is hot chocolate with marshmallows on top.
That teddy bear when the tears won’t stop.
But love is not *every* thing.
In fact, love is so rarely the thing by itself,
Love is the feeling you get from that thing on the shelf.
Love is a clusterfuck of emotions.
Love can be happy. Love can be sad.
Love can be angry. Love can be mad.
Love is confusion. Love is irrational.
Love is calm. Love is magical.
Love is joy. Love is pain.
Love can be all of these at the same
time.
Love is unconditional. But love sets boundaries.
Love is love, even if the sound varies.
It is freely given, without limits.
Love is how we survive all of these minutes.
To All the Could’ve Beens that Will Never Be…
We were friends.
We laughed and danced. We sat and talked for hours.
We drank and danced some more.
When you wrapped your tongue around my finger,
It became the signature on a note that said:
“There’s more.”
We were going to give it a go, to see what the future may hold.
But, weather happened. Our first date was a no-go.
Work schedules collided. Our second first date was a no-go.
Then COVID happened. And all of the next umpteen first dates were a no-go.
Then you died.
I love you as a friend.
I wish we had the chance to see what other types of love we could’ve shared.
I miss you.
I still think about the fun we shared as friends and I still wonder what might have been.
I still wonder, “If we’d had that first date, would you still be around?”
I still wonder, “Is it my fault, for not trying harder?”
I still wonder, “How could I have helped you?”
I know the answers, in order, are:
“No, probably not.”
“No, definitely not.”
“There is nothing.”
But I still ask myself.
I still feel the hurt and the questions.
And despite my logic knowing the answers —
My heart still asks and wonders.
But you’re not here to tell me, my friend,
“What could’ve been?”
The Last Show
Who we were going to be was chosen for us by the choices we made.
We poured ourselves into our personas, while we delved deep into their psyches.
Over the run of time, we grew in each others’ light.
We grew, our characters grew, our friendships grew.
Time was kind to us, time was on our side, time stopped.
We laughed, we cried, we fought and nearly died.
As long as we held the stage, time could not move.
Then the clock started ticking again and time had run its course.
We took our bows and struck the set, and each tick of the secondhand brought us closer to the end.
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened,” we say, through tear soaked cheeks, knowing full well that crying is all we can do.
Yes, we’ll meet again and run another course.
But that time will be its own.
This experience will never happen again.
Each run is a unique adventure that can never be recaptured.
So I will smile through my tears as I slip away without saying …
“Good Bye.”
Nature’s Contract
The rose grows lovely and lush,
Smelling as sweet as sin.
It will bite you with its thorns.
A corpse flower, putrid and dank,
looking as lovely as a lounging lady.
The balance of beauty.
The Moon is cold, empty, and dark,
Yet glows with Solar radiance.
The Sun is life-giver and cancer-maker.
The levels of life.
Winter: dead outside, but
Snowmen and hot cocoa inside.
Spring: lush and green,
With flowers bursting at the seam.
But the bugs are back.
Swimming at the beach while sweating
and sizzling on the sand all Summer.
Autumn holds the heat at bay,
The trees turn into a bright array,
But the days are short and hide their beauty away.
Who is to choose what Life has to offer?
The light isn’t so different from the dark,
both have their ups and their downs,
they are all a part of Nature’s Contrast,
Our contract with the natural world.
Continue reading
Malleable Memories
Harken back to yesteryear:
The joys of childhood,
The pangs of adolescence.
Revel and frolic in your visions:
Superheroes dashing about the yard,
Climbing trees that were skyscrapers.
Relive and recoil at your nightmares:
A tender note; rejected.
Peals of laughter as schoolwork is sent scattered.
As you travel back in time,
The good gets better.
The bad gets worse.
We recraft our memories each time we recall them.
Did you never scrape your knees on those trees?
Did no one ever love you back?
Memories are malleable.
We can change them.
Though they depict the past,
They are not written in stone.
You
You reminded me that I’m not alone,
While believing that no one shared your pain.
You lifted my spirits,
When yours were low.
You showed me that I was loved,
But you thought you were unlovable.
You are why I am still here,
I want you to believe all the things that you made me see.
Love
If you are:
Listening; Holding space; Protecting.
When you say:
See you soon; Get home safe; Be careful.
If you can:
Hold their hand; Hug tightly; Just *be* there.
This is Love. Love is Love. I love you.
Disco Power
Too close. Fragmented faces following a gaze.
Too close! Broken and betrayed, belittled and dazed.
Too close. Distracted by the darkness; driven mad.
Too close! Picture perfect profile pulsates badly.
BACK UP! Back off. Back down.
Spotlight shining sends shimmering sparkles. Back up.
Radiant rays are rescuing ribbons, back up.
The mirror cracked just makes many moonbeams. Back up.
Illustrious luminations light fires, back up.