denouement 

Where wonder reigned
habit remains
and memory’s stained
with melodic refrains
dissolved to static
attractions now
only distractions
unworthy of abstraction
and words just
stochastic noise

Still, I stand poised
against a slow demise
holding out for a surprise
ending

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half full

I’ve lost my taste for diluted wine
And all that once appeased

Anything less than my desire fulfilled
Is just a pointless tease

Sometimes some is better than none
Or so they say from above

But who want just half of a heart
Or just a bit of love

No, I won’t succumb to winks and hints
of what may never come

Anything less than full to the brim
Won’t ever be enough

daily post

awake again

you’re the ghost that keeps bringing
to each day a new misgiving
to wake me with fists and teeth clenched tight as my chest
to relearn to release the regret
of having done my best to
put conviction to the test
and lay dignity to rest
as I plainly confessed
all you had long ago guessed
and used for your paltry gains
already swept in the pile of remains
to be forgotten

having failed to impress
I continue to protest
while I still have words to attest
that I got so much more than you gave

still days expand
like rubber bands
only to snap my
expectations back
as they draw to a dead rose end
closing me in with my dread
of another night ahead
streaming dreams of change
only to wake with my heart
picked apart and disarmed
yet again

you and words

life goes on just like before
contracts signed and others torn
though I rarely read a single line
like I did between yours
just to find I would be
the only one bound
to no gains
and expected to refrain
from expectations

I have no reasons only rhymes

to excuse the time I wasted
offering views to the blind
I preferred the words
and how they swirled
in my eyes and mouth
so much more than you

but without you they scatter
I’m adrift amidst a mist
of letters that refuse
to gather into clouds
and rain a relief
I can turn into words
to drown my fear
that you have all
I wish I did not need

trying to be

To roar, break, crash and thunder
like the clouds above
and let loose
what roils under
this skin too thin
to contain the blood
that looks to pound
against you

To be bright pink
not bloody bruised brown,
burnt, stubbed and rubbed
into the ground

To be rash
And willing to scratch
dreams hiding under scabs
And let them run freely
or float away like ashes
left to the wind

To be anything but quiet
stoic and contemplating
constantly placating
the urge to smash and run

that last declaration

You’re a hiccup
a glitch
a prickly itch
I make a last ditch effort
to scratch
But that was the last
phrase, lost in praise of
the last phase
the last breath
held and exhaled
my last affirmation
my last exhaultation
in mock exasperation
A concise expression
of my frustration
at all that could never be
So I’m forced to resort
to self-preservation
and grudgingly decree
Yes, I was only joking

grounded

I’m a cat on a leash
wishing to leap
into the sky
but will dangle
if I dare take flight
So I try with all my might
to set my sights slightly below
revel in the magic
of my steps as they flow
Still the mist rises again
to gather and protest
like a neglected guest
determined to make
the simplest path a sodden mess
to shout magic’s just a trick
And I’m better off sticking
my feet way down
into the blindly trodden ground
until mud gathers round
and my steps grow too heavy
to complain of the tug
of loving chains
and the constant gently
falling rain

it’s not okay, I’m not alright

It’s not okay I’m not alright
I cringe and churn
throughout the night
I dread seeing
what I can’t touch
And the floods
of senses that come
rushing more intense
than the best of days

Startled and feverish
I push blankets away
And sit up ready
to hold images at bay
that show me all
I want will stay
out of reach

It’s not okay and I’m not alright
But I’ll make it through this night
I’ll wring and let my sorrow dry
and fold those wishes in a pile
Knowing that beyond these lines
lies only time
that waiting will not fill
But still I’ll try
with all my might
To fix my sight
on what is true
Though all my thoughts
run back to you

the supple one

I guess I’ll always be
the supple one that gives
that rages and rants
then bends and forgives

The one that states principles
up to which I can’t live
and sets goals I let slip
to make room for things
that need, that plead
that cry louder than me

That one that lets others
walk on free
though knowing they’ll never
come back to me

The one that tries
that gives all but her best
lest it fail to impress
or be seen

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