My heart scares me sometimes

Its need for something that tears it apart

The howls of a terribly troubled soul

and the cracking noise of shattering hope

are music to it

It craves the kick upon kick to the ribs

Like that punch to the gut you get

from hurtful words

like the slash of a dagger as it stabs the pink, plump flesh

That neat and pure pain

oh such a fulfilling high

The exquisite anguish

only caused by a wound that is superior to

the menial physical kind.

Once upon a December,

as winter darkened the windows

I sat in a corner with a book on my lap

wrapped up in a life not mine;

for fiction is the best analgesic

or more of an anesthetic

With every leaf I turned

the panes of the window

to my reality, grew opaque

the gloom began to evanesce

The scene became refulgent

Here, in this phantasmagoria

the air carried the heady petrichor

Butterflies, grass, the trees, the sun

the fluttering, the rustling, the chimes, the wind!

The amber of the sun, as it kissed the river

made each drop turn into prism

Then little by little, the light retreated

like a sullen drunk, came big dark clouds,

from far away and hid the yellow sun

And as I put the book down

sighed, and dared to look around

there sat my cellmates, waiting

gloom, despair, and numbness

huddled by the same dark window

beyond which lay the blizzard.

Hold the door

for just a while more.

I'm not done yet,

not even close.

I have yet to waltz

till my feet are sore.

I have yet to laugh

till I can laugh no more.

I know you're in a hurry

I know you're done for sure.

I can see all your worries

in those deep eyes of yours.

But let me make you rethink,

let's just forget everything,

and dance in the rain

while the thunders roar.