Will you love me?

He is a loss I have counted,
As am I for him
To be his loss feels so bittersweet,
But mostly sweet.
He has been counted.

There's not enough time in the world
To go back to what might have been
But it's a lesson that I've learned--
To take opportunities as they come
To be alive
Because then you don't regret

I don't want to count you as a loss
Or think of you in terms of
What might have been
I want a chance

A chance to find a man
Who draws out my passions
Both good and bad.
A chance to find a man
Who understands
The good and the bad.

But I don't know--
Maybe you aren't that man.
Maybe there's only that moon.

Red Evidence

The marks, jagged and red, evidence.

I need a way to make you see
that life is hard for me.
It isn't a matter of being in a bad mood,
and putting on a happy face.

It's a sickness, a disease.
I already feel chemically engineered,
like I'm not a child of God.

And I give my best, and I give it every day
What more can I give?

I have nothing left to give to you.

Don't you think?

The tick of the clock is
lulling me to peace
and the hospital bracelets
I wear, belie that peace.

If there were a way for me
to make life work in a way
that didn't require so much
crying and turmoil,
don't you think I'd do it?

If I had a choice between happy
and sad, what would I pick?
Depends on my mood....

When I'm happy, I'm on top of the world,
I'm on, I'm it
But when I'm sad, there's nothing to be done.

And it saddens me that I can't control it.

If I could, don't you think I'd do it?

Again (with time)

She was not fine--time to tell the truth,
I'm tired of lying.

No, I'm not fine.
I was in the psych ward again.
Feeling overwhelmed and out of control.
Wishing for the happy.

Then playing cards with new friends,
All with their own problems.

Release after three days,
But I am not fine.

Better equipped to cry.
My emotions are so close to the surface.
Don't break me please,
I'm trying to hold it together.

I'm tired.
Tired of lying.

The Act of Touch

written April 15, 2009

waiting for you
to commit the act of touch
i hold still in
anticipation.

if only life were as
easy as this,
this natural feeling
of desire.

your hand lightly holds
mine, and how sweet!
this ache in my chest!

Time (and again)

written May 15, 2009

Fantasizing about a love that doesn't exist,
I recline on the cold floor
And reminisce

A hospital, a safe place
A hallway, and my ever present pen
It's so much easier to make sense of life
When I write it down

Twenty-five years of marriage
And he wants a divorce--
Is there such a thing as love?

There will be time
There's never enough time
Ringing in my ears
Waging war in my mind

Contradictions, both

Feeling like a to term baby
With poison injected into its head,
I am engineered, and trite.

Am I meant for more than this?

This 9 to 5 travesty of a life?
Isn't there more to life than wishful thinking?

So many questions, and never enough time

But there will be time.

Is it a lie?