Enough

I stand here in the rain
watching you run so you
don’t get your hair wet.

Such a difference
between us.

All the time-
making it seem like
there is no reason for
what I do.

But I love it.
All the droplets falling down.

It makes me believe I will wash away-
if I just stand here long enough.

Monster

I will weep

When you get

What you deserve.

 

I will cry out with pain

When they hit you

And spit on you

And call you names

 

Showing their hate

Of you,

Making you feel stupid

 

I will lose sleep

Waiting for you to

Come home, bruised

And beaten

 

So I can hold you

In my arms and

Rock you to sleep

 

I will know why.

What you’ve done

Is unforgivable

 

But you are my son

I can’t help but love

What I’ve created.

 

Medicine

4655345533_808089409b

The dizziness overwhelms

And she finds it hard to take a step

 

Not ready to let go of the banister to

Stand on her own two feet

 

The nausea comes next

In waves

 

Sort of like pregnancy

But there’s nothing to look forward to here

 

Like the smell of a newborn

Cuddled in her arms

 

Just the loneliness surrounding

And the palpable metallic taste

 

That comes and goes in her mouth

Reminding her she’s made of flesh and blood

 

Reminding her what she puts in must

Find release, somehow

 

The healing will come, with time,

But withdrawal is a different beast altogether

 

Photo Credit: e-MagineArt.com via Compfight cc

The Ones We Leave Behind

Just whispers in the night
After they’ve helped us
Bury the body.

Dirty hands so raw,
Cracked and bleeding
Heavy breathing,

Once it’s complete
Collapse in the snow
And stare up at the
Howling moon.

I left you there,
Your image fading into the night
As I walked away

Because
What’s there left to say,
At that point?

Photo Credit: Rusty Russ via Compfight cc

Goodbye

We stayed on shore
As you floated past us
In your restful bed

The end wasn’t as you expected
You didn’t suffer
And we didn’t cry

But I smiled
To know that things
Would be different now

The leaves changed from pink to
Gold when the lights danced over
Them on the dark water

And my breath caught
In my throat
As your blood swirled with the tide

Salt mixing with life
Preserving it, holding it tight
Until I see you again

Photo Credit: http://digitalblasphemy.com/

This Game

You and I face each other
weapons in hand
fate tied at the wrist

And as the blood pumps and rushes
what’s left to think about?

I’m faster than you and the
blade cuts into flesh

Spilling your heart out onto the floor.

Photo Credit: atduskgreg via Compfight cc

Re-Do

What works for me?
What pushes me to be better?
Who gets to see that part of me?
Apart from all the bull shit.

Apart from the burden I feel
Every time I wake up
The choices I’ve made
Have led me here

Have led me away from you
But in another time &
Another place
I would be with you,

Holding your hand
Smiling
Instead of sitting here
Alone, Stagnant

Trapped by what I’ve chosen
What wouldn’t I give up now
To go back and decide again
To make that defining choice, differently

To walk into the sunset with you
Instead of turning back
And choosing familiar
Over the new possible.

Photo Credit: Ennor via Compfight cc

Silent

Your hand reaches out
Taking hold of my throat
Closing, closing
Choking the goodness from my lungs

Seeping, sweeping onto the floor
Crumpling down
Down I go
Losing consciousness

For a moment,
Taking me by surprise
Your words hit me
This time

Like they haven’t before
Revealing the stain of pain behind my eyes

But this is my job
To listen
To not hurt, to not react

So I deaden my eyes
Forcing a smile

Not giving myself away

Photo Credit: Jeremy Wilburn via Compfight cc

Why I don’t Write

Do I write for fun?
Or when the power of words hit me?
Do I write to process, to understand
The beauty of things that surround?

Would I write if energy was freely given,
Flowing to me in a continuous
And purifying rain of words?

If the bones in my hand didn’t ache
As I typed
And my heavy head wasn’t throbbing
From buried pain?

If my day wasn’t congested with
Chores and human frailties
Could I produce
A brilliant new world?

Or would I still sit here, wilting
Creativity dripping down the
Sides of my face
Not knowing how to come back from all this madness?

Photo Credit: Wouter de Bruijn via Compfight cc