Touch me—

I am for show;

My body is not mine.

Touch me—

And I will be beautiful;

As if I was made for you.

Touch me—

And the lines that separate

I from you are blurred.

Touch me—

I might look more beautiful,

Blurred and pale from your rough hands.

Touch me—

And I am faded,

The charcoal that makes my

Supernal curvature is smeared.

Touch me—

And I am an apparition of myself;

Barely there at all,

Save for the place where your hand meets the paper. 

Touch me—

And look what you have done.

I am non existent.

You have made me part of you,

I am only the charcoal on your fingers. 

Touch me—

I am for show;

My body has never been mine. 

Touch me, so I can disappear.

I am afraid.

Of what will become of Me,

Of everything.

A collection of experience,

Of history.

Intangible as gossamer 

And sunlight.

Eternity doesn’t suit me.

Every thing has its end—

Like it’s beginning, uncertain 

And precarious.

A new foal, an old horse.

A generation lost, a new one emerges.

I am afraid of the

Abyss that could await,

A bleak stare into the unknowable.

A universe, of fire and of dust, 

Seemingly indifferent to us.

I ask the Earth, the Universe,

Why She made Me so.

And She does not reply,

I’ve never liked the unknown.

But how would the Universe

Know herself, with all Her 

Power and Her Creativity,

If not for a bystander?

And so, 

out of the fire and the emptiness,

We came,

Perhaps to Witness.

Always watching,

Never to know.

#poetry #unknown

Though the world was red with wars, 

Though the trees were black with soot and grime,

Though too many things were wrong,

She smiled.

Light burst forth in the form of a moon that took up the blue-black sky.

Her lips kept going, to the back of her head and further, until it broke in two, hanging by a hinge like a jewelry box.

She was split in two uneven parts.

From the abyss that was her mind,

Came a single rose.

It opened to the full moon like the roses that are not of dreams, that sit dully in gardens.

But it was many-colored, and it was beautiful.

From the abyss that was her body, 

came her soul.

It pulled itself out by hands that were gossamer.

But it was many-colored, and it was beautiful.

It rose out of the old shell, as if by winds unfelt by flesh.

It was not an It, but a She.

And She who was the innermost part of Her, plucked the rose that was her mind.

She kissed it with her perfect lips that were not lips,

And it burst.

The old body crumpled, discarded and worthless on the lush grass that had sprouted 'neath the feet of this new being.

She kissed it as well, and it became a birch tree.

Thus, the She that was the inner most part of Her stood on her perfect toes that were not toes, and declared that all should smile this same smile, and free their perfectness from theirselves.

#poetry #prose

If you can’t hold

Your cruel tongue,

I just might do it for you

Next time.

I’d reach out quick

With feline claws and

Catch it from your throat—

If I didn’t care for you the way I do.

I can’t say a word,

Even to whisper your name.

Because mine is in

A hundred knots

I don’t know how to untie yet.

So don’t be angry with my silence,

I’m only trying not to lie.

And I’m not trying to take

The high road,

I’m only trying to stay on my own path.

And you’re not in my way.

Though I’d like some company,

If only you’d have me as I am.

Try to be silent,

It’s hard for a man like you.

Walk with me for awhile, dear.

I’ve been missing you

From the other side of the bed.

I think I’ll always miss you.

We could speak;

You know I’d prefer to stay in my head.

#poetry #heartbreak

.

Oh, when it’s all said and done,

Make me the earth again—

Return me to the dirt

From where I came,

And let the living have every part of me.

I have no claim to the atoms

Of my body.

Chemicals collided and

One day soon they will fall apart again.

And I will remain,

Only rearranged—

In the air, the soil, the trees, the beings.

Like everything else, I am the universe.

Expressing itself, if only for a moment,

As a human being,

On a pale blue dot,

On the far arm of a spinning galaxy.

When my little spark dies out,

I hope I find some truth.

No reason, really. It doesn’t matter.

Its just a flicker of a joy I have,

For when things get darker.

.

#poetry #death

You can have your freedom,

And I will have mine.

Despite having hoped against hope,

That we could intertwine.

I’m staring, waiting for something,

Not sure what I’m expecting.

There’s nothing to see in your eyes,

They shift like water, always reflecting.

And now we’ll sit all quiet,

Because nothing we can say is true.

Of course I thought I loved you;

I thought you loved me too.

Though I guess if I loved anything,

It was the idea of you.

#poetry #love #breakups #heartbreak