Store Away

There’s a shed I know

In the winter stands alone

Holds the things that no one knows

Though outside the green still grows—

It’s my mind and mine alone

In this shed that stands alone

Where inside I store and hide

The parts of me that have died—

The bad and the good

Under the hood

That once were

But never should

Transparency

I have a friend that hides his fears,

Pops his pills,

And loves his dear—

Part of me is jealousy,

To see a them where we should be,

The other half is as if a stranger at the windowsill,

Watching a lie from afar and knowing it’d kill

Me slowly over time,

You, each and every time,

You did not get the full of me,

Which is something I give to you so easily—

Ones and threes abound,

But I know the two of us are bound

To end up as one,

In time just like the

Sun eventually sets,

Which for now allows for me to rest,

To be hopeful

And to feel so blessed.

 

Conviction

I need to write,

It’s how I fight

Through dark to see the bright,

And let my light shine finest,

But there’s more to it than that,

And more to me than you,

So when you came into my life

I knew for certain this openness

Was my blissfulness,

And in spite of fear, anxiety

Over losing you my dear,

I never second guessed myself along the way,

And so let me say to you, respond to your question,

By clearing the air, and saying to you I’ll never go there ever again,

Won’t scare you, now or forever ever again,

So when I took myself off that media,

I closed the book for you to my encyclopedia,

Because I knew that you’d browse and allow for

Yourself to wonder aloud inside your mind

What kind of guy, is this man that I love,

How could he put me through this

If I really am his angel from above,

And the truth is I can’t.

I need to write, for me,

But as you know, there’s more to me than myself,

And that’s you—

As for either part,

There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do

Heart's Desire

We answer to right and wrong,

Don’t you long for that familiar, phosphorescent, full moon light?

Does fearful, frightful dazzle still behold and frazzle you

Before the boldness of our bright?

Truth, ruthless is this disease,

Love panacea surmounts, revels in the fight,

Fearless, feathered glittered splendor,

Bending brightness to bat down bitterness of

Falsehood beaten, to the brink of no return,

Bank steep, black hole of dead sea leagues deep,

Tumble over edge of fear of banishment fear,

Release from your cackles she, woman, of blackened callous heart,

Burn through shackles, shored, bright, artful true, so that we may start anew.  

Pain in the Closet

I don’t speak true to you out of fear,

If the wet balcony could hear, had ears

And heard the splat of lateral flattened flesh,

A crime scene tape job, robbing you, unfit for your two eyes—

It’s a risk, to hide this hurt from you,

I admit, it’s a risk to be so untrue,

To protect you from the pain that you are do.

Colliding with the ground emotional pound,

Departure from the sky, I fall so many times

Then climb back up.

The wear and tear of weary war torn worry heart,

Mind and body part with soul,

Droll disaster humor type does mold,

Welding hell-bound hurt to heaven’s structure,

The swell ruptures and concerns,

There is cause for pause.

Is there room for fern or ficus

In this space? will I give it room

To breathe or say a waste?

I’d like to think I’ll never put you on trial

However trying these times are,

I’d like for you to never see my pain if but only from afar.  

 

From Above

So many little clouds of truth pass,

Your mind through mine, mine through yours,

As they always do—drops form, it rains, giving life to a dried up plain.

Renewal, the golden rule of preservation.

The darkest, blackest cloud now hangs,

Neither yours nor mine, yet somehow it is ours,

To share, to bear, to weather, to wear.

In the thinnest air, breath opens, the senses attune to fated song.

Bodies dance, some free, some fight.

The night we first met, I fought fate back down, intending to put out,

To drown, with fiery, emblazoned ax swings of ferocity,  

Now I fight only for us to be free.

Let it rain.

Pristine Woman

A knob turn, slight creak,

Left to wonder what his little hands can do,

Why he should only be so lucky as to knock upon her door,

Walk with her inside—

Frame strong, delicateness hanging, one of those peaceful wreaths, a welcoming floor mat, inviting—

The golden ratio of strength to fearful beauty, unsure surety, deliberate, polished, refined,

A child’s heart in search of adulthood love of life and self, from within the daily tussle, the Transgressions of others messing with her mind, the grind and weight of the world pressing,

Her fortitude prevailing

Her soul wailing,

His wonderment waiting

In the wings,

On the wings

Of angels,

She,

Pristine woman,

Beaten, broken down by darkened forces passing through,

Perceptible,

To heaven and

Hell,

Fell down with the rise of heated flame

Torch in the wrong hand,

Disbandment in her breast,

Cleaving conviction in the still beating part of her chest

She chose to walk away—

So has stayed with her, this fiery truth,

This devilish risk,

This wishy-washy whisk,

Turmoil and

Blood boil

At her every turn—that if tempted, men will burn bonfires to combat

The flickering candle of her hopeful goodness,

That which stands to consume,

Pristine woman,

Built back up again,

Renewed and true to her as she is,

As it should be.