I see you, I hear you, I know that you’re there;

Could mutual not-love go anywhere?

How do I know you even meant me-

Were those words something you hoped I'd see?

I’m in my head again, and I’m dancing a dark song;

As ever, I’m sure, I’m incredibly wrong.

No, that’s right, you’re not really here at all-

Hiding as ever, behind an invisible wall.

I get it; I wasn’t enough, never what you need;

Never that sort of kind-hearted breed.

Don’t mind me. I’m spiraling in my mind-

Just what I get for being the artistic kind.

maybe it would be best if i turned around, walked away

from the place you slumber, try to sleep away the pain

but my feet keep on walking, and my shoes long know the way

and this road that i am following has only one lane

and the closer i walk to you, the more that i dread

the distance between me, home, and this long trek

i've got a cigarette in my mouth, and he is asleep in my bed

and his kisses are bruised upon my burn-scarred neck

my shoes are worn through, walking back and forth to you

and my cigarette is burned down low, and my head is weary

it is winter now, there is snow on the ground, and my lips are blue

and this chain on my wrist is heavy and i'm dreary

things lie in the path between us two, make it hard to come back

and i know he's alone and he's cold without me, there

but there's a chain on my wrist, and i'm attached to this track

and i have to get to the end and whisper my prayer

but the closer i walk to you, the more that i dread,

the distance between me, home, and this long trek

and my cigarette fell from my mouth, and he's awake in my bed

and his kisses are delicious on my the base of my neck

and i have to break this chain or i may die on this rock

and you're a vision of the past, and you're long since gone

and i'm fighting the snow to get back home and break this lock

but it's been hours, and i can see, it's already dawn

there are things on this path, and it's hard to go home

but i can leave this track, and come another night

and for now, down that dreaded trek i roam

to the warmth of home, and the place that's right

and the further i walk, the less i dread

the distance between me, you, and this long trek

and when i get home, he's waiting for me in my bed

and his kisses are tender on the back of my neck.

we whirled like dancers, a tango of sorrow;

not so sweet, not so romantic, see.

would've, could've, never to have been

something never clicked for you and me.

four years since we bathed in gold

i had all and then, poof! - none of you

red dirt burying promises for when we're old

and baby, we were only ever destined for the blues.

Replaceable parts-

that's you and me.

Oh my goodness gracious!

clock cogs that got off center

A bundle of broken pieces,

replaceable you and no me.

Knuckles bruised, I have to wonder

If you felt pride.

Do you enjoy when I hide

My blood stained palms?

Oh, how easily you lie.

Did you feel justice?

Dead grass lit with blue;

Did it mean a thing to you?

Were you better to go?

Oh, how easily you lie.

A year of nights and days,

Dark and light traveling the sky.

I still see the anger in your eye.

You’re in every scream at night;

Oh, how easily you lie.

I had these lungs,

You had that mean look.

The same snarl when you took;

My safety from my home.

Oh, how easily you lie.

Gun on my bedside table

Security blanket to sleep at night.

Trying to get that sight;

Your screams out of my mind.

Oh, I didn’t die;

I didn’t die.

Thirty past nap time-

'But writing sounds better'.

Words are more like memories, now-

'I'll always love you'.

Letters start to blur together-

'They'll grow up knowing love'.

I hardly remember my rhythym, now-

'Your energy is so warm, today.'

[ Things change, over the years. ]

Thirty before nap time-

'Writing doesn't sound much better.'

Words are more like nightmares, now-

'I used to love you.'

Letters so crisp, they cut-

'We grew up seeing hate.'

I kind of remember the beat, now-

'You feel awfully cold, today.'

six [and a half] years old,

clutching a tootsie pop wrapper

[folded sapphire]

learning the word ‘crush’

for the first time ever

[a double entendre]

dress dancing around her

knee-high socks-

she now knows what a crush is,

while she watches him go,

[candy stickiness, fingers to palms]

eyes clouded with

innocent affections.

20-some years, later.

‘crush’, a high school term

she knows the smell of sage

on flesh

and the taste of raspberries

[and cream]

between thighs.

women, men

they melt and blur together

but his edges won’t blend.

who is he - the man she trusts

to hold her body delicate, soft?

too many years, platonic.

but now her gaze is not-so innocent.

he leaves her reeling;

six [and a half] years old

and holding a tootsie pop wrapper

learning, for the first time,

what exactly a ‘crush’ entails.

Enough time to know myself--

One man, to another, six months between

Longer,

If you count separate nights

Over a year and a half.

Another shattered heart

Two, three years later,

But..

Not.

The disconnect. The hatred in his eyes.

Not so long ago.

The way that voice calms me.

It doesn’t feel rushed.

It feels...

Perfect.