Patience, Traveler

Trace me. Follow each strand of my hair,
Take your time, use your hands.

My cooling is without deliberate intent.
Private and small, and also pale in color.
I find myself too diaphanous to contain anything
Resembling the flannel of body heat. Patience.
Something I can hold slips.

Life loves you.

Paralyzed by perfection,
I had broken my heart in a hundred different ways. Stupid.
Now I'm traveling to you. I have a map, a pencil and a flashlight.

Life loves you.

How long until every last detail has been misplaced?
How long until the exact shade of this, this...
What I'm trying to say is, this is what I want, how do I make this
Between you and me? Then, how long until the shape of you
No longer contains the things you used to say? How long
Until it is no longer familiar?

Trace me, use your mouth, use both hands,
Say my name, follow each strand, each curve,
Make a circle on my back for each year
That I've been alive. Add a few more for good luck.
I can't reach you,
I can't reach any of the lights that blow out.

I don't know how hard it is to try not to fall in love.
Loneliness has nothing to do but wait,
And nothing has ever been enough. Be my river,
Intimate and quiet as skin.

Trace me by the starlight of a few drinks,
Trace me with the sleeve of my favorite sweater,
Follow each strand of my hair, sit in from the cold,
I am a girl from a nearby town. Come, stay.

Perfect and Gentle

Mechanical owl eyes clicking,
Watching. You're perfect and gentle.
I made parts of songs for you,
A pair of hearts, and also, a bite-size for you.

Sometimes I lose my sight of you.
It seems to me you've been leaving things behind.

I bought the same sheets as you,
Pieces of pieces of me and some pieces
Of you.

Mechanical owl eyes clicking,
Watching. Blinking. Exploring.
Humidity clings me a desperate lover.

Mechanical love-shapes beating,
Clicking, testing the immobility
Of a chain link hope.

Pink morphs itself, reflecting orange. The pelicans dive.
There's a place where the sky is almost white before it disappears.

Memories left by the wayside return to the earth on their own.
Still, I had wanted everything to be so nice.

Mechanical owl eyes clicking.
You're perfect and gentle, my apple.
I have parts of songs for you,
I'll sing for you. I'm watching, still
I may lose sight of you.

The Center of Everything

This is my fall.
This is my rain.
These are my shoes.
Scented weather.
Choose.

Don't ever mouth the words,
not even in the bucket of night. Not even
under the hum of a pulse.

Flight.

Tumbleweed secrets we never shared, (shh…)
Warm voice wool soothes. You, Autumn calm. True.
I'm not to blame for your existence. You stare. It sticks.
The center of everything.

Surge.

Stay still. I'm hanging on by a thread. The nest of sanity redefined.
Trapped in the bittersweet waiting space of incremental cotton naps
between dusk, comfort and dawn. The seasons change.
Six months of insomnia masquerading as sleep. Dreams flitter.

Raw.

This is my fall.
This is my tumble.
These are my shoes.
Choose.

You Belong To The Beach

this one needed work. check back later.

'KBYTHNX!

The Loss Of A Comet

He hadn't shaved in a couple of days.
I rolled over on my side
with such a profound sense of loss.
It was a comet, this kiss.
I was hoping the room would still be dark.
I couldn't wait to write about it,
as if writing about it would define the moment.

As though I was equipped
to handle such occurrences with efficiency,
and a light touch.

We kissed in the kitchen.
He had lots of girlfriends.
He pressed his entire body against me.
This was not my dream.
It was my void, still warm.

Let me tell you about the way he smelled.
Let me tell you about the way his skin felt.

In a single instant everything my other self desired -
Oh, because there is another self -
was assuaged standing in a kitchen filled with people
in a dream so vivid it will become a memory.
Then, a loss.

Pulse

The pulse of the Universe
has a louder beat than my heart.
The sound of believing is continuous,
I am the embodiment of hope, as always.
Continuous, perfect, precisely spaced amounts
of blood traveling through me and my systems.
Energy is a constant around me,
flexible, friendly, and lives forever.

When the energy between us is good,
(Oh, but I love you infinitely.)
When I am dancing with my eyes closed –
this is what I'm talking about.
That's the way things are with me.

I stand as close as possible to the sound
and let the pulse of the Universe
flow through me,
ocean current flow,
dancing with my eyes closed
in my perfect space.

When they energy is good between us,
you know I do, I love you infinitely.

The Saddest Room

The saddest room in the house is me.

The air is still, the light is fading,
the walls weigh down on me like night sweats,
my emotions are a crime,
my words are a prison.

I can type but I can’t eat.
I can answer the phone but I can’t move,
I can't dress myself.

The pillows are all soft,
I wish I were soft.
The colors are all vibrant,
I wish I were vibrant.
I know I’m not asleep
but I still wish I could wake up
and find everything back in place
right where I left off last.

The saddest room in the house is me.

I don’t have the edge of anger,
I don’t have the sleep of peace,
I don't have my lover’s faith in me.

The emptiest room in the house is me.

Some words make no sense once uttered.
They only sound right when unspoken.
They are hard to pronounce
and sound foreign or
like static noise or rush hour traffic.

I have spoken my heart but it is too late,
I seemed to have kept it a secret far too long.
I have spoken my heart but it is too soon,
I didn’t wait long enough.
I have spoken and my words played
a dirty trick on me.
They betrayed me,
they switched each other out
like a child's game or a puzzle to his ears.

I no longer have any words,
and words are like furniture for expression.
I will slowly become silent
until I have nothing left to say,
until we have completely decorated this house
with my silence, because right now
the emptiest room in the house is me.