waken

had a dream that I was playing the violin last night.

their scrolls were bobbing in the ice, the vapor was

freezing on the strings.

made me want to reach for my rosin,

but instead I felt your hand pulling me

out of my dream.

hear the static voices screaming, SHEILA!

cry out as the spirits jump on top of me,

causing me to fly much like her blossoms

that blew in our yard last night.

the flowers looked like paper mâché hearts,

the white and pink on them torn.

much like my far-gone heart, beaten and worn.

watched the wind make them scatter and I’m

wondering how I let myself even care that they mattered.

 

fate

it’s hard to accept my fate when i’m running from it.

tripping over my feet while getting slapped in the face by

the palms trying to hold me back. forcing me to stop,

to pluck the thorns from my eye, ignoring the thoughts that

i’m not ready to die. so i think back to before

and it’s easy to remember that i held you first. but

you can’t remember i was the one that loved you first.

 

it’s hard to accept the passing of time, counting all those

desperate moments that i call you mine. watching you run out

the doors, tossing rocks at the cars, throwing the chairs to

the floor. watching you grow faint from screaming all those gory

words. and now i grow faint as i watch the roads

turn to grass – lose my hearing, feel my voice not make

a sound.  but it’s easy to remember i felt you first.

easy to remember i was the one that loved you first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

shower

you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think,

entertain; as my eyes match my fogged up

window.  catch myself against the side to

keep from falling; falling from all my damn

sobbing.  secret thoughts to make this hell end.

awful thoughts, selfish thoughts.  the banana

leaves try earnestly to shake me from my

disturbing trance.  those distant violins

try to keep me awake.  they beg me to

follow their sorrow, but they have no clue

what’s in store for my crazy tomorrows.

you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think;

dark thoughts that would make you run, make you sink.

watched

watched you burn our mouths with gooey, orange

marshmallows; the sting made us close our eyes.

cringing, watched you sprinkle Tang on the floor.

it stuck to my feet as i envisioned

so many bangs; my dumb brain felt the heat.

watched the smoke rise above the green buds with

pink tips while rubbing my arms; damn arms felt

whipped.  watched you tear through my muscles just like

they were cotton.  watched you forget all the

sweet words i spoke; good life, it’s forgotten.

 

 

une fois que

you felt too much once,

feel too much still.

his pain was your pain,

like his pain is my pain,

now and always will.

you cried too much once,

cry too much still.

with hearts crumbling,

souls fading,

we loved too much,

once and always will.

 

 

Je suis désolé

Ma petite fleurplease forgive me,

I’ve told you too much.

I opened up like the earth with dirt spilling,

oozing back into the bottomless pit.

Didn’t see you fall in, because I was so busy complaining. 

Didn’t recognize you, covered in that soil – as I walked away. 

Please forgive me, ma petite fleur.

I messed up the delicate balance of aging

and becoming a friend. 

I put him first even when I thought my

life would end.

I pray that you’ll be stronger for it someday,

ma petite fleur. 

I pray that you’ll forgive me. 

remain

moon graced the tops of the palms, bade my soul 

to separate, to congregate with the

others – the ones in that tranquil state but

distant ungodly fury – my fears, the

sadness spinning out of control caused me

to pause, reflecting that my dull spirit

was longing to follow the ones at peace. 

their fingers mingling, reaching for my own. 

realize mine are cold and trembling far from

and missing home, demanded my spirit

to stay.  confused, it turned around – followed

the birds that just took flight under the light

of the new year’s moon, cause even the birds

know when danger is imminent, flapping

up with wings that covered their heads.  catch a

glimpse of their pink bones through veils of strength.  I

follow those pleas for mercy, their clues, and

make my way back, my bleary ghost and all. 

 

noel

he also put fire on the moon after

he came through the ice and tormented our

tree, made it beg to be put back in the

cold ground, made it sorry it was ever

planted, but its jewels sparkle and shine – much

like my diamond wedding ring he flushed down

the toilet, never to be seen again –

my finger misses it, my eyes miss it.

he also put fire on the moon after

he broke those round shatterproof ornaments,

flashy shards of glitter and gold brought blood

to our feet just the same, but now the tree

matches our house, all bare and plain – needles

tremble to the floor, made the nutcracker

run and hide, made Santa scurry away,

even he didn’t want to stay, but we

will put on our smiles and pretend to play,

after all, Christmas is just one day – but

after he puts fire on the moon he’ll want

to devour his presents, devour his food,

devour our time, and he’ll burn himself out

like all good fires do, and all will be calm.