Drowning
in pieces
of a life
to often broken,
scraped raw
by failed dreams,
flawed plans.
But as I fade,
resigned
to the demons
sharpening their knives,
I see you.
And somehow,
that’s enough.
No promises
or fairy tail
endings. Just
a smile.
Something
worth seeing
again, worth
being knocked
back down.
It’s been so long,
first fighting, giving way
to just waiting, until
tears are all I have,
my story-book ending
miles and years away,
but always haunting
my today, still changing
where I go, who I am,
no matter how I run,
the sum of my experiences,
turns out wrong, day
after day, seeking
a formula to turn
my life back to gold,
I keep missing you,
then missing me, pieces
so tangled by a we
that barely was, loosing
again and again because
I don’t know anything else,
but somehow the world spins
dragging me along, day
after day. So I wait,
and watch for you,
or maybe someone new,
to patch me up
for another round
because somehow
I can’t just stay down.
Reflections
scattered and broken
as another day
falls to catastrophes,
little disasters found
in the nooks and crannies,
filling free time with worries
for tomorrow, and yesterday,
leaving no space for today
and simple reflections
of trees on the water.
Some days
soft shadows,
flickering candles,
feel right.
A world
of twilight,
half tones,
time between
responsibilities,
until black
and white,
settle, darkness
and pooled light
of houses
promising safety
in a world
of simple choices,
that are never easy,
unless you close
your eyes. Still,
I keep stepping
into those moments
between.
Key sparks blue
against battered knob,
another notch,
inadvertent record
of stumbling home,
exhaustion, cold,
breaking down,
or distracted,
but measured
in wear, fragments
of fire, quickly
dismissed when
lock turns,
dumping me
inside, until
life shakes me
again.
Somehow,
I am always drawn back
to trace old scars,
memories of events
etched across skin
in pail lines, vague map
of past events, missing
entire continents
where wounds never
touched flesh.
Living
in those lulls
between catastrophes
and obligations,
brief glimpses
of self and desire,
seen when necessity
holds back,
grant precious moments,
until everything
spins back
into the mess
of everyday
life.
