Possibilities

In the end

It’s the possibilities

That will kill you.

For each situation comes

With it’s own unique set

And as it changes

Or ends,

So do they.

But that is as simple

As it can get- words.

Living these possibilities

Is difficult and it’s

No secret

That we detest change.

We’re no good

At adjusting.

If it were purely

The possibilities that

Changed, perhaps we’d feel

Okay, average, indifferent.

But they take with them hope,

Of situations that we

Planned for and maybe even

Fell in love with.

We got used to

The possibilities

And we mapped our lives

Around them

And we drew pretty little

Pictures, like the innocents

That we aren’t.

And we hoped.

And when the situation

Changed and our pictures

Were torn to shreds

It was hard.

And we can try to

Piece them back together

But the tears will remain

So we let go.

In search of new ideals

We plan new futures

Around a current set

Of possibilities

But always they are

Compared to the old

And we hate ourselves

For that.

Because the old picture perfect

Is torn and ruined,

Tainted with sadness and despair.

So why on earth

Are our brains still

Making awful comparisons

And telling us that the new

Does not measure up.

The answer lies

In the past, in the fact

That history will repeat.

And this set of possibilities

Is not forever

And one day this picture

Will be broken

And torn.

So the only thing

Left to do is stop.

Stop planning, dreaming,

Live instead.

Because nothing will prepare you,

For a new set of

Possibilities,

For the inevitable. 

Irrelevant Thoughts

It’s so strange to think

That at a time in my life

When thought

Is exactly what

I am trying to avoid,

It seems to be all I can do.

Behind the temporarily

Deep-set eyes of intermittent

Insomnia, my brain is

Not so much swimming

As it is drowning

In thoughts

That are doing me absolutely

No good,

At all.

Unfortunately it is not

Just my head

That suffers from late night

Or perhaps,

Early morning,

Internal conversations, debates

And questions.

My poor, bruised heart,

So distant yet so obviously

Connected, cannot

Escape.

With each apology it grows

Heavier, under the burden of

Inescapable sorrow and inexcusable

Stress.

But how can it be

That something so anchored

To the bottom of my chest

By worry

Can constantly feel as if

It is rising?

Never have I felt something

So peculiar

As this simultaneous

Flutter and fall.

Like a flower striving

For sunlight, my heart climbs

Further up my throat,

Destined for my tongue

To express its true pain.

But mine is not

A heart of beauty.

Nor do I believe that

It is as alive

As it should be,

For the poisons of jealousy,

Anger and greed are slowly

Eating away at it

With sharp teeth

And vicious appetites

And I am in no mind

To tell them that this pain

Is nothing less

Than exactly

What I deserve.

It is thoughts such as these

That consume not only

My waking hours

But my dreaming minutes

Or even seconds

For fantasy doesn’t survive

In this frame of mind.

It thrives on hope

As fantasy is weaker

Than it appears.

And the strength to see

The good in the bad

Is something

That my wilting heart

Cannot seem to muster.

Incomplete

Your heart is so cold

But it greets me

With such heat

That every time you leave

I am not sure if I will

Ever feel warmth again.

Fierce eyes,

Golden mirrors

Into a soul so equally shared

By oceans, flames

Both unrelenting and

All consuming.

But still, I believe that deeper

Than physical elements

Part of you lies hollow

And I’m sorry that I am not

The missing piece

To your puzzle.

Take It All

If you are going

To leave and take with you

My light, my safety

In the dark, my carefree

Smiles and my pure laughter,

Don’t let that be

All that you ever take.

Please, I am begging you,

Take your fingerprints,

Take your memories,

Songs, photos, films.

But above all else take

With you, the possibility

Of your return.

Because I have felt a lot

Of things but I cannot

Possibly imagine

The pain and the emptiness

That my soul would endure

If I had to watch you

Walk away twice.

Awe

I wonder, have you ever

Encountered that sense

Of awe, complete and total

Astonishment, at the perfection

Of another?

Enough to drive you

Crazy, unable to confide

In any other living creature

Because this beauty

Is in the eye

Of the beholder.
Not a single other soul

Will be able to comprehend

The importance

In the tiny little details

That have kept you up

Night after night

Wondering how such

Flawless luminescence possibly

Came to be.