waiting

I want nothing more
than the possible
opportunity
for chance
and coincidence
to converge
into the unexpected
All that
you took
when you went away

stasis

Living is what I do
When I’m not thinking of you
I’m often in stasis these days
The sun warms my shoulders
Into feeling less old than
My bark-like skin declares

I spend my days exposed
Like light can appease thirst
And bring life to dried dirt
But it won’t
And I’m left fiddling
With thoughts too belittling
Crumbling last year’s leaves

Branch bared and limb cracked
Waiting for my spine to snap
I keep twisting
Reaching back
To rake up debris from the past
And find a match to light it
Just to keep warm through the night

fading

If you had died
I would have lied 
erased dull facts
to keep intact
the effigy I built
on faulty stilts
but you went away
and every day
I force fuzzy edges
to the middle
so I can fiddle my focus and find
some new detail
to impress my dreams
that lately only stream
repeats of chances gone by

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

all you were

So few details
starkly told
with a prose so bold
I thought you were trying to be opaque

denying some truth
you feared more than the ache
to be with me
I rubbed my eyes
hard and dry
to see past imagined
silent lies
But my vision was fine
there was nothing to hide

That was all you were

and still is…

jotNrot

What to make of an open end
Leave it to gather
mould and dust in the dark
or allow it to dissipate
and expand in an arc
of pale should haves
and half measures
dished in anorexic portions
morselled to feed distortions
grown to daunting proportions
taunting better judgement
with their glow

What to do with loose threads
hanging from words
Tie their tongues
with punctuation
or tease out insinuations
to unravel the past
and weave a pattern
to contrast and outlast
this sky overcast
with dead winter grey

We could wait until spring
and see what it brings
But we fear what is
will still be
entangled in our dreams
always dangling
just out of reach

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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

denial

She nimbly swerved around each oncoming body, eyes wan, scarf trailing from the worn handbag. Loose boots flopped a half step ahead. Her ribbon body flowed into them. She beat the crowd to the median, pausing to drag on a cigarette stub and turning to blow invisible smoke to one side. The red light was for those constrained by conformity, and her will was her own. Without yielding her earned momentum she lunged into her next stride. Then it hit her.

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

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