Personal

There is no one who can help me be
myself. They've asked me not to be
graceful, because I make too many mistakes.
They've asked me not to consider
pride, because I've experienced shame.
They've said that I can't possibly be
clean, because it makes them uncomfortable
that I have asked myself for the unfathomable,
forgiveness.

For Me.

For you,
for the one who I am
and have been,
I offer
understanding.

Love is not a shackle,
but an admiring eye.
Whisper fruitful words,
including hard goodbyes.

We're Not Done

You set a
brick down,
and it fumbled in the wind.
I yelled at you
to catch it. "DON'T
LET IT FALL!"
It did. My eyes swelled
as I watched it fall,
joining the others.
It wasn't a real cry,
just one of those times
when the anger and the bitterness
seep from your eyes.
How could it keep happening
to us.
We've been building this
all morning, and the wind grows
ever stronger.
We're nowhere near making
a roof, and the storms are coming.
And, the storms are coming.

The Confident Woman

There's a refinement in her
every fluid movement. A reverb
hitting you from behind,
as you actually hear her,
her very being approaching you,
she'd never give you less,
making you wonder if she can
subtract from herself.
There's a reality in her eyes,
that you've never seen
a man like this, but she is
all those archetypes that you hold
dear. She says,
"Can I buy you a drink?"
But you know,
you feel her intentions,
you know that she's already
performed, everyone does.
You'd never be able
to pin down the pain,
the past it takes to create
such a presence, to produce
such purposeful eyes.

What is Love?

I saved
a locket with your hair,
but it doesn't smell the same.
I know
that euphoric sweetness,
but not it's fleeting name.
Today's
perfume is strong, yet still,
it doesn't trickle down my spine.
But I'll
keep looking at your portrait
and thereby bury you in time.

The Struggle

I crave the fruit
that hides within
the thickle bush, protected.
That sweetness hides
behind its thorns, but I
can't be shaken. For I
have learned to enjoy
the blissful burn.
I am hungry
for the thorn,
and the struggle.

Child

When I was a child
holding a dandelion,
I learned the meaning of love.
How is it possible
to hold you
but not keep you?
How can I
admire you
yet keep you whole?
How does this being
grow with me
and not around me?
I want to feel you
within my solid grasp,
but more than that,
I want to love you.