I’m afraid of my shadow,
Because it’s already dark enough inside my head;
The sun dances between concealment and ambivalence.
I step in footprints that are not mine,
Playful like a child;
For a moment, I laugh, deeply, taken,
Skipping unabashed through tentacles of beauty:
Of mountain songs, of listless clings, reconciling demons that burned a depth falling in lifeless pits.
I stretch my arms like mountains,
Fingers brush the wind,
Standing firm upon the snow caps,
Resting amongst the clouds,
Steadfast until you come to me like a wandering Eagle
And you’ll love me when I’m better.
You’ll find me,
Nestled in the waters,
Until the damp shores are within my grasps,
I heave and lay,
Wet with spittle,
Until you find me unafraid.
I remember what you said to me,
Covered in the grains of my juvenile determination,
“Come back in one piece” said with a deceiving
grin; crisp words you knew would never be.
I carried them like a wanting child,
Full of helplessness and curiosity,
Smoothing the turbulent rumblings,
That jolted me from inklings of the dark cloud,
That hangs and waters the reservoir of ruins.
Those words carried me along asphalt baked with defeated dreams;
Roadsides: the waiting point for the chariot that delivers us from buffering.
We sit beside each other,
Not able to hold hands:
Bros only by another name.
You said you’d wait for him,
And wait for him you did.
Until the man you waited for cease to live.
He came back with the same eyes that won your soul,
But those eyes held no soul.
And you wonder if he’ll look at you the same as he did before,
If he was the same man who told you you were beautiful the year before,
Beneath a night sky,
Fuming with passion and abandoned,
Embraced in a farewell entrapped by a kiss that would nourish the dry spell.
You danced in a bar filled with breaking hearts,
Before a morning of tearful departs.
You listed all the things he liked,
His favorite sports team,
His car magazines,
The way his scent lingered on pillow cases.
A tribute to the man you knew before
Tremblings and temptations,
Defaced promise and youth.
A year of sacrifice has become unglued,
By rogue expectations and delegations that bury the truth,
That you can’t love what you can’t refuse.
And time is a leaving train,
Fixed on a destination,
Not deterred by our own lateness,
As we run to catch steaming metal,
And medal in contemptment,
Won by a dream derailed from the clutches of commitment.
But you said,
There are many times,
A heart is broken,
And broken is,
As broken does,
Destroys whatever that is,
Or whatever that was.
We pack the little self worth we have left,
And travel to safety and embark on a journey,
That sees the sun as a hindrance,
That shines light on every wound we suffered.
We trek into damp dark caves,
To be warmed by hurt and disadvantage.
Closure is delusion that keeps us running in circles,
Never finding the path that leads us to decision.
Like a flashlight beamed with emotion we search under every rock to find justice for injustice,
And scour the bars for vindication,
Where we become drunken on choas.
Never trusting when love delivers an antidote that cures the mistrust,
That a thousand lovers broke.