Some things break

When “I’m sorry”

Is later than never

And still nothing’s better

When “leave me alone!”

Healing

Now that the bleeding has eased

And the knives have been sheathed

We may heal

You and me

Us

Too Honest

I took for granted that honesty meant
Complete Honesty
I stupidly told you everything
Everything that would hurt you

We made poetry

Some people make love
Some people make do
But you and me
We made poetry

Careful

Careful
How you handle that heart
That bleeding, breaking thing
As strong as it is
It is fragile in your hand
In the hand entrusted to cradle it
Care it
Carry it

Estoy cansada

Estoy cansada
Porque mi corazón no puede sufrir más
Te sigo con amor vestido en plata
Porque te quiero
Pero yo sé que
No puedo te tener

would you love me tomorrow?

if i wasn’t exactly what you thought of me

or what you thought I’d be

would you still love me?

swallowing steel

Trying to forget you
While you stand in front of me
Being the you
You are
Is like swallowing steel
In the presence of a strong magnet

Hell in Paradise

The bark of guns
Fade into the background
So part of the dark outside
That silence
Scares the tough shell courage
From his adolescent body

Feeling

Numb
Neurons firing
But missing their mark
Kind of like a novice
Shooting in the dark
No touch
No sound
No sight
No smell
No taste
Will trigger
What some may figure
To be butterflies
And daydreams
Rainbows
And walks on air
Flashes of sparks come
Then disappear
Sparks of light
Flicker
Reactions get
Quicker
And then dissolve
And abates resolve
And the places left burnt
Counts all as lessons learnt
But the nerves down beneath
Make their retreat
Rebuilding
In tingling
Trying to find the best places
To attempt to feel again.

Not so numb
Inhaling the energy
The back of eyelids
Become great screens
Showing great scenes:
Memories.
Great and small.

Beautiful.

The boom boom of heart
Pounding in ears
As well as chest.
Reminders.
Life is good.
In perspective,
Great detectives
Couldn’t find much better

Than this
What would you wish for?
Than this
What could you ask?

The glass at half
Is neither empty
Nor full
Wanting
Lacking
At the same time
But enough
To slake some thirst
To abate some desire
For more

It is in the chase
That satisfaction is gleaned
In happiness of success
Is measured the worth of the quest

Than this
What is there to hope?

Simulation of stimulation
Prevents the atrophy
That is fear

It is a muscle that you carry
That you protect
And shield
Strength is gained by push
AND yield.

The shocks
Knocks off socks
But it seems in the end
It’s the jolts and the bolts
That makes what has stopped
Start beating again.

(Aug 1, 2009)