Promises

In the end all we had was each other,
And then all we had was ourselves.
It's a loss that has been counted.
A loss that I cannot pretend doesn't exist.

This year, on my birthday,
I promise to not be maudlin.
I promise to not count this year
As another failure,
Or to remember failures.

A failure of love to withstand our needs.

I promise to not think of you,
To not think of the parking lot,
Or of empty, meaningless sex.
But especially,
I promise to not think of
that beautiful promise
And how it shattered me.

Because in the end,
All you have is yourself.

Naturally

(written November 2, 2008)

Plastered behind closed eyelids
I listen to my breathing and
wonder if you hear me.

Are you as aware of me
as I am of you,
lying there beside me with
darkness as our blanket,
the great equalizer?

My breathing feels forced as
I try to be natural.
I'm lying so still because I'm
afraid to disturb you.

Why can't I relax?
Why must I please you?

The Words

(written November 2, 2008)

I wish I were a poet at large
But I don't always have the words.

The words to communicate to you
My stream of thought, my heart.

And it kills me when those words don't always
Make the sense I think they should.

I'd hate to be read and misunderstood
Or worse, read and put down
Because I lack the words

To communicate my heart.

My Soul

(written November 2, 2008)

My soul is on display on the table next to me.
My fears shake out from my hands.
Self-exposure and self-expression are
much the same thing.
And my first book of poems is both.

I write and I write until I have no more to say,
For now.
And now I'm putting all that writing together--
A progression, a story of growing up.

My first book of poems is both
Self-expression and self-exposure.
And my hands shake out my fears,
Because the table displays my soul.

Air

(written November 2, 2008)

Floating while sitting still
I can't seem to find the ground
For all this air

I'm lying awake yet another night
Writing because I can't sleep
And I'm so high, I'm floating on air
In a bed that seems to take flight
When I close my eyes.

Shaking from shoulders to fingers
From high-dosage pills and more
coffee than I'm used to,
My pen is only steady when on the page.

I wish my words would take flight,
Fly as high as my mind,
As high as this tightly controlled mania
Will take them

But I still have to work
For every phrase

I close my eyes to rest them.
And to think of my next words.
And again I am floating above
the ground, swimming in air.

The Girl in the Photograph

(written November 2, 2008)

She looks so happy,
So pretty,
Standing there between
Two friends.

Her short, sassy hair
Seems to invite,
While the curves of her body
Entice.

She looks so happy.

What happened to her?

The Man in the Moon

(written October 26,2008)

If I had the night sky all to myself
I'd lay in the grass and stare at the moon
I'd try to discern if there's a face hidden there
Or if it's just this universal indifference

If I had the night sky all to myself
I'd curl up in the grass and dirt
And cry out my sorrow, my burdens, my fears
I'd give them all to that bright, blue moon

Because I like to believe there's a face hidden there

And when I was done
The wind would dry my tears
And rip at my clothes
Reminding me that I am cold--

Man in the moon or no; He can't keep you warm.