somebody’s fool

body is changing
to form yours
blood-laced gloves
back pockets torn

MacBeth fooled once
me twice more

submissive love
chains around this heart
your knife slices
kinky through my life

who

i buried my self
a long time ago
even before you left
a smile
a hug
a “love you”

secure in my shirt pocket
pressed warm
folded in origami fashion
the finger oils
smudged words
linger long

long arrives the scent
settles upon the dainty
face covered by lace
secrets of passion
promptly,
kindly,

-erased.

suttee

Afraid
to let you go
i twine the words
of complicated grief
there was no goodbye
never another hello

and then i made it worse
opened myself
wide
displayed before savage eyes
killed myself slowly
with little pride to show

flames shooting higher
than ever thought possible
i sold my soul to the devil
who paid a hefty price
to lick bitter tears shed for us
and consume his last meal.

I became trapped in my own selfish misery. I once held onto hope. Positioned as a shiny metal object, glistening in the sun, it promised better days. I prayed to it. Ran my fingers over the smooth surface. Worshiped the image broadcast back to my heart.

I learned that day about rust as tears flowed. Death approaches angrily, despite appearances. I wish i hadn’t fallen so hard. Knives are all too predictable. Perhaps there is the lesson. Learn all you can before you are trapped.

life happens

Do we owe apologies when life happens? My heart ♥️ is discombobulated at the moment. I miss you dear readers and i made a brief appearance this morning after a welcome disappearance from the world. A friend and i made away to the wooded hills of Brown County, in my expedient retreat from the hustle and bustle of moving. And i stopped to breath. And a few words made it to the surface, popped and left stains on paper. I shared them with you from the encouragement of another. Thank you for reading.

death of an era

I have not been able to read any of your blogs and i want to. I desperately feel i owe you that curtesy and i cannot fulfill that endeavor. I want to be able to think, write and paint. But i cannot. I want to reach out, touch and exchange smiles. But i cannot. I want to scream, be heard and cry. But i cannot.

Life happens. But i am not.

I remain enclosed in self-protection from the chaos of realtor showings, movers approaching with boxes, tape and sharpies. I am spinning and not on tip-toe.

At the moment i remain confused. I do not profess to understand the complexities i am passing through. Your worlds are miles away and cannot be reached. My world is slipping from my hands.

my promise garden

These are moments to cherish. The labor of my hands have shown to say hello, one more time. And goodbye forever.

—-

I wrote a poem to a friend this past weekend. (See below.) I sent it off to him. He did not respond. Silence weighs heavy on my head. I do not understand his absence after sharing his desire to reciprocate. Another of his small deaths looming?

clipped wings
found the feathers

who wastes their life?
bundled in piles
yellowed-papers
faded ink scribbles

unable to decipher his path forward
white lady
entangles with her promises.

pressed tight

Depression. And it’s accomplice, anxiety, arrived today. On horseback.

Out of the blue and bare-naked. Desperate to scare me. Both hoping to seduce.

I had ran away once. Appears now it will be twice.

Glanced to the side. Saw the consequences coming from a ways. It had to be more than a mile.

It was the voices that trapped my imagination. I trembled.

They brought shovels. Dug me a grave. Knew how weak i was and their plans overcame.

I gave in to their demands. Was there ever a chance?

Remember, neither proposed. They married you without consent.

Some day i will wake up.