"Lover, can you help me? I'm a child lost in the woods. A lit path eludes me."

I was so immensely broken to a point where I had made myself physically ill. I felt so much that I made myself ill. If that isn't love then I don't know what is. I was astray. I was abashed. I had forgotten what it felt like to experience dry eyes. I breathe in the fall on this Sunday morning, but I am unable to discern it's coolness in my lungs. It is not relieving like it used to be, it is added strain on my heart. What great agony it is to breathe. So I do so slowly and more drawn out, so as to minimize the misery. Yesterday lingers in my skin and I let it numb me. I am empty of life and impassive; blank. I am as cold and heavy as marble. I cannot distinguish, I cannot think, I cannot heal. I am a walking shell of a hindrance, a catalyst, an aboriginal.

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Grayed vision
I am comatose
Gravity had never felt so heavy
Perfection is a mere memory
Frosty tongues
Unspoken words spoken
They ring
And I can still hear the sting
My ears run red
Words had never felt so agonizing
These hands,
These fingers,
This face,
I loath it all
Even though the fault was ours
Selfishly, I snatch all fault and make it mine
I want you untouched by my taint
You deserve better, dear

Think of Me

I wonder if you realize how much I think of you. Not just know, but really sit for a moment and wonder about it. When I am away from you during your free time, I wait hours for your voice, virtual words. Sometimes you leave me waiting ever so patiently for too long, and thats when assumptions grow and sadness sets in. I often cannot bring myself to be the one to contact you because my words will be frosty and frustrated. I know that you wouldn't ever avoid me, but the time you leave me waiting for you to contact me makes this idea true to me. I know that you're busy...but I'm important too. Wouldn't you try to contact me any chance you get, because you love me? Aren't I the first thing on your mind?

Presque vu

There it goes, did you see it?
An idea true that came and went
Born from me but never mine to keep
Fleeting as can be
It comes to me, great potential in hand
Only to be twiddled and flicked
mused and poked
Until, finally,
I cast it off with frustration
The words I want to mold
Are never the ones intended
I dream of glorious sentences
Strung together with fine craft
But instead, I receive,
No reverie, but
Depth-less lines of words
With lacking allure

Things Lost

I enter through the metal, white garage door tinged with rust, bags in both hands. My feet stop briefly and I stand in the only unoccupied area of the garage, breathing in dust as I scan the room. For years the garage had never housed the things it was built for. As a matter of fact, there was all sorts of lost items in the garage, everything except for it's purpose of holding two vehicles. My eyes fall on an ancient ATV, something we declared two summers ago that we would rebuild and take to the cabin in Wisconsin. How exciting it was to have a project we could all work on together, and how even more exciting and laughable when we finally got it running and he drove it down the driveway and the street with four flat tires. It stands untouched since that summer of declaration. There were assorted items from a lost business of hers. Plans, plans, and more plans for the largest garage sale of the century never executed. Old toys strewn on the farthest wall like childhood memories. Distant and intangible. An old entertainment center the same age as me. New street bike tires destined for the rebuild of his old street bike thrown against the nearest wall like a pair of old sneakers. The glory days of his marathons cast aside and forgotten. I make my way through the old white door and push the garage button for it's closure. I stand, a heavy weight holding my body down. To my left, a flimsy wooden door to a basement with the intent for it's reorganization and contribution to a garage sale. Started and unfinished. On the glass kitchen table I see two days worth of mail rifled through by somebody I know. A full sink of dishes. A half full cup of cold coffee. To my far right, a couch with snuggled-in blankets. I feel a twinge in my heart that I cannot ignore. All these day to day things gone by without my knowing. Who had drank the coffee? Did someone make it for someone else? Who got cozy in those blankets? Who had gotten the mail? What was for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Who had made it? Who had eaten it? Was it eaten without me? This place is a fortress of unpursued and lost dreams, and forgotten memories. It is also no longer a home to me because I know nothing of what happens inside these walls any longer. My distance, my lack of presence. I feel the onset of adulthood, the onset of individuality. All these things wanted but now resented, but still unable to avoid. Nothing is constant anymore and it frightens me.

My Little Monsters

My thought process is riddled with tiny, biting monsters. Little creatures with snouts and pointed ears, gnarled claws and flashing eyes. Their jobs are to contaminate- like a contagion in a lab experiment. They creep and climb on the inside walls of my skull, snatching my thoughts and biting them and ripping them- turning these treasured things into blackened, empty blotches floating around in my head. What good thoughts I manage to make, their birth is usually cut short by death. Everything that happens within affects the out, and I see how it hurts my outside world. This catastrophe that no soul knows about me is mine to bear alone unfortunately. I just wish that people understood my restless head, my tired mind.

"I see the way the moon plays this tune though our lights died."

There is a sadness in me that I have realized recently and has been growing with time- and I see now how apparent this calamity is. I don't understand why you aim and pinpoint endless rage in my direction. It rips caverns and craters in my chest and it takes time for me to patch them up. Our short time that we do bond well is only a blink. And then you reopen these ruptures in my heart again and I feel the distress growing each time I have to take your anger at me and re-patch them. I try for you because I care for you much more than you care to see . . . Don't falter, don't shun me, don't hate my existence, just love me, because we're sisters. And when you've figured out who you are, I'll be around the corner waiting for you to come back.