Coping

I’m not angry

Anymore.
I can no longer hear
The blood in my heart,
Lungs, brain, bubbling
Angrily, forcing itself up
Rushing through my veins
To my cheeks and the vessels
In my eyes, at the mention
Of your name, or the sight,
Of your face.

Gone are the days
Of avoidance.
I’ve freed the memories
Like one thousand insignificant,
Dimly coloured balloons,
Or any aversion
To human contact
For fear of replacement
And rejection and pain
And loss and heartache
And repetition.

But sadness is not something
To be banished consciously
For it has grown and sprouted
Roots around my bones
And flowers that die slowly
In the darkest parts of me
Promising fresh light
But telling only lies.
It is true that I do not know how
To live, breathe or move without it
But I am trying.

On brighter days
When the waves have subsided
And the waters of thought
Hold hopeful clarity
I wonder how I can save myself
Because you never did.
But the only conclusion
I have ever stumbled
Upon, is one of knowledge.
Perhaps if I understood, I’d accomplish
What I set out to.

But to search for reasoning
That I often doubt exists
Seems exhausting and
I just don’t know
Which is worse:
To spend too many days
Wondering why but never
Asking questions
Or the disappointment
Of a never-ending maze
Of confusion and dead-ends.

And it is at these
Crossroads that I realize
That none of it matters.
The past is over
But I’m still desperately
Trying to change it.
And that doesn’t matter
Either, none of it does.
Because ultimately and finally
All I can do is cope.
So that is what I will do.

Pretend

I don't care,
Anymore.
Lie to me,
Whenever.
Always,
If you like.
Don't love me,
At all.
Just pretend.

The real thing
Is too hard
To find.
Too much time
Has been wasted
Trying.
It doesn't
Exist.
Just pretend.

Denial

Deny it as much

As you want to. 

Tell yourself,

Tell everybody who asks,

That your heart does not

Feel as if an eagle

Has clawed at it

With it’s incredible talons

And wrenched it

From your chest.

Tell them

That it absolutely does not

Feel like there is an

Invisible hand

Holding you under an ocean

Of pain, loss, hopelessness.

And forcing you

To inhale

And very slowly

Drown.

Assure everyone

That laughter could not

Possibly, feel like one thousand

Tiny, venom filled needles

Pricking you

From the inside

Just to remind you

That you are not happy yet.

You are not allowed to laugh.

Stop it.

And remember to remind

Yourself especially,

That you do not care.

Not even slightly.

You are fine, unscathed,

Happy, stable.

What does it mean

To miss something?

You don’t have

The slightest clue.

Pure and Simple

Pure, simple love?

Definitely not.

Pure and simple is watching
Stars plummet to earth

And not questioning

How it happens.

It is wrapping all that you can

Around you,

Blankets, people, light,

Darkness, solitude, warmth,

Without wondering

Why you do.

You and I, we are not

Pure, nor simple.

We ruin these beautiful qualities

With our impatient questions,

Busy schedules and definitions.

Pure and simple

Is what you find

When you let go.

It is found in a love

Free of our human restraints

Free of our self-imposed,

Ever-restricting, reality.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give,

For a taste of the pure,
And simple.

Sweet but never bitter,

Always fresh, young

And filled,

With the most delicious,

And innocent naivety.

Brimming with happy hesitation

Rich in time, laughter,

Optimistic carelessness,

And spontaneity.

How often it is

That I find myself basking

In this daydream, willing it

To free me from time,

Responsibility, worry.

I want to break free

If the constraints

That I too often find

Blocking my love

From my eyes, hands,

Heart.

Just let me taste it again.

But perhaps there is beauty

In not having the pure,

And the simple.

If, at the end of the day,

After being pushed aside

And left to grow cold,

The embers of your love

Are still glowing

With promising heat,

What you will have is much

Stronger, and it will
Survive our reality.

Hope

When you find yourself

Lost, lonely, seemingly unloved,

Indefinitely dreary,

Currently pessimistic,

Infinitely perfecting,

Knocked off of your feet

By the winds

Of disappointment

Or feeling

Mundanely uninspiring

At best,

Remember this-

Just as plants

That have flourished

Will die,

Just as birds

That have fallen,

Will fly,

Just as summer,

Turns to autumn,

Turns to winter,

Turns to spring,

The cycle

Will continue.

Hope is not lost.

Consuming Nightmare

Storm clouds loomed

So high that I should not

Have felt

Quite so disturbed.

But a quiet, eerie tingle of fright

Sat somewhere unknown.

Was it in the pit of my stomach,

The bottom of my heart,

Or the base of my throat?

Alone I stood with my thoughts,

Toes buried in the sand,

Facing an angry sea

That mirrored the troubled sky.

And against every element

And every dark omen

That should have urged me

To reconsider, I walked

Towards the luring water.

As the my feet left dry sand

Only one thing was clear.

It was certainly not the sky

Nor the sea

Not even the path to my certain

Destruction, for this sand was flecked

And flawed, every granule

Lost amongst the masses.

My decision held the clarity.

But startled, I awoke

And as I opened my eyes

To the morning rays

And my ears to nothing

But the gentle clink

Of a teaspoon against a saucer

Your familiar scent,

Waves of vanilla and lily,

Were the only ones to wash over me.

Our eyes locked and I saw

That same cloud ridden sky

And you knew.

A sad and slow sigh

Climbed from your chest

And as your soft palm

And electric fingertips

Caressed my left cheekbone,

I think my heart broke.

Miniature waterfalls

Cascaded down your cheeks

And met at your chin while

A quivering lip moved only

Enough to say

“I cannot save you.

I thought once that I could,

But all I have is love.

And that is not enough.

“Though it may be eternal

And unrivaled and sincere,

I cannot save you,

My darling,

From yourself.

And try as you might

To resist the luring depths,

I do not know if you will ever

Reach the surface.”

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Out of sight, out of mind

Doesn’t mean a thing

At 2:39am on an autumn night

In a bed that does nothing

But shock me

With a split second of cold

Realization

When I roll over

Into unoccupied space

Where another should be.

It doesn’t mean a thing

When it’s 8 in the morning

And I haven’t pierced

The silence for the day

Because nobody has asked

If I’d like coffee

Or tea or toast

And my restless mind

Flutters to a place

Where maybe they do.

It doesn’t mean a thing

As the midday sun

Streams through white

Wisps that slowly

Move with the wind.

Maybe if I followed them

I wouldn’t feel as if

The warm rays

Had given life to everything

But me.

It doesn’t mean a thing

When, at 6:40pm

I am already crawling

Reluctantly

Into a deceivingly painful,

Unbearably empty,

Sea of cotton and memories
Because nobody is in sight

And I can’t get that out

Of my mind.