Where life and death meet

Walking amidst well-worn earth,

Past stone and stone

Etched deep in memories now forgotten.

There is a peace in this forgetfulness.

While hearts were torn, and twisted

Like those bodies that were felled -

The earth springs up with new life

Without regard of how one felt.

Here - the battle raged on.

And there a war was begun.

"And, how many more must fall down,

Until your battles can be won?"

No, here the war has lulled,

And weary men do sleep.

Here where the blood of young boys

Ran as rivers cut too deep.

Yes, here my restless heart finds solace and reprieve.

Here amongst the gravestones 

Whose hearts also cease to beat.

"Memory," the wind's echo -

"She can come as she please.

She'll write her own accounts on your hearts as you sleep."

Who will write the truth,

Right the errors that she leaves?

Who will remember the way,

When all have gone asleep?

Withdrawals

Curled tight like an invisible cocoon.

Holding heaving ribs - 

I can't tell if it's because my heart

Continually heals only to crumble apart again or if there is something legitimately wrong.

Shared life.

That was what it was.

Everything and anything,

Nothing was too much or unimportant.

I reach for the phone countless times a day just to tell you stories and hear yours.

I wonder, Does Aloycious still love sunshine?

Wondering.

This is the hardest. 

Not knowing.

When my heart aches most -

People have asked if I'm angry.

If I have some grievance to share...

All that I can say, balled-up in my cocoon

All of my answers and thoughts...

Absence is your greatest betrayal.

A Farewell to a Place and the Open Road

It seems just yesterday that it all began here in this room. 

In me grew the seed of independence and hope -

That a future was something possible.

I looked in those eyes, the deep color spoke truths to me you never could.

I know those weren't lies.

The only lies were words and promises.

Still, for all that is royally fucked, 

We were both begun here.

Whatever we may say in days to come -

Our story was shaped here.

You've gone.

Where, I never bothered to find.

I told you I wouldn't.

I never left these walls which still echo the stories.

You were gone so fast to leave heart and mind behind, not realizing both will catch you wherever you go.

I wanted the same, but memory is not escape-able.

So I made peace with these walls.

Only now, I tell them, I too must go.

I won't come back here.

Where I first learned to make a home.

I won't return 

To the place where we first kissed.

I choose to leave,

Though I know I grew up in this very house.

A road and worlds call.

You will not hold me here or anywhere,

So I tell these floors, it's time that I go.

As I look last, I still see us.

Because memory is not out-run.

Torrents

Today, it just feels like a storm on the inside.
And I am a spectator wondering where it will land.

Everything That's Left

12:49 AM: My hand cannot fathom not having yours to hold.

I try to translate my feeble understanding of what's happened to the rest of myself - breaking the news, I guess. One more group to come out to. Maybe it's that I still cannot understand - but my hands and arms certainly do not and they continue to feel restless, hoping.

11:54 AM: I know what I said. I know lying is wrong. I know I would say anything to help her move on. I know my heart judges me with each beat - and I can only answer it: I lied and it must be so.

1:00 AM: you're not coming back. And still, I sleep as though you were. Memory is a cruel bedfellow.

Where and who we are

I remember Sunday mornings -
The first stream of unbroken sunlight, mingled with the sounds of nearby traffic. (I remember some mornings with ducks and frogs replacing automobiles...)
The smell of fresh coffee.
Startling realization that I was not alone.
Really, being startled was more like being pleasantly surprised (and, surprise only last for picoseconds before giving way to a deep sigh of contentment).
Nothing seemed "special".
And EVERYTHING was special.
Morning eyes, morning breath, the fact that a word beyond 1 syllable is unpronounceable until either a shower or coffee (or both).
I learned the value of a moment.
Seconds can linger - and I know I have a degree to disprove this - but sometimes, time really did slow down.
And yet, to make up for this, it sped up - what seemed like a moment's conversation became hours.
Days spent.

In my darker moments, when asked "How are you doing?",
I am tempted to answer: "I remember everything."
But, of course, that would not mean anything to anyone else.
"How are you doing?"
---------------------------------------
I wonder how long people will ask.
And when they have forgotten, and I still remember,
What will I say?
When time and space comes.
I don't know.

Maybe, I'll say:

Look, a lot has happened -
And I don't have all the answers.
Under the circumstances,
Really, I guess I am doing ok.
Even my best attempts to be angry seem to be foiled at every turn.
Nothing is easy.

I can't pretend this didn't happen - and I can't live here either.

Living is harder.
One moment seems easy, the next - impossible.
Very little is routine.
Except, maybe, tears and laughter (because we need both).

You can't live your life pretending you didn't make mistakes.
One way or another, there is a time to get back up and learn.
Under no circumstances am I going to stay down.

Maybe I'll say that. Maybe you should read whatever you want into it.
Maybe, I'll say: "I'm fine".
But right now, I think I'll just say: "I remember."

Does any light look in to my hollow eyes without,
Some ocean of affection to salve the throbbing from this doubt?

Does light exist just for shadows, for a home to house despair...
Do we learn to say "I love you" just to easily ensnare?

Do we ever stop to wonder, as we butcher through our love,
How much can one heart take before the beating is enough?