Love is the lie that keeps us alive.

It is not beauty born to the tongue that speaks it.

It is not grace nor ease for those who invite it.

Love does not whisper with the subtlety of the wind, to kindly make its presence known.

It is not ubiquitous, as so often described, not many are even born from it.

It is not warm hands that keep away the cold waters of the Styx.

It sits quite nicely in the optimistic eye, but unseen is an insidious side.

It wears the alluring colors of specious fruits with bitter hearts.

Much sin has followed such a taste, for memory lane recalls too many a name.

A little drop may ease the pain but overindulgence is its game.

You have lost me, but I have not lost you.

My life and its reminants are all that you are still.

Live on a wire, dancing in my head with all indications of uncold, breathing, exuberance.

My body knows presently how it feels to hug you as I did when you were here.

The hot bubbles in my chest ready to explode into a distinct laughter that only you brought out, still sit here waiting.

Your life was big.

It occupied lengths so far I feel it in the green damp earth of a tiny corner miles from where you left.

I’m brought back to the place where your origins begin.

It is loud and free and wild and I see you everywhere.

I found you again, and I will keep looking.

You have lost me but I have not lost you.

In that dark dead space where only rumbling and doubt can be heard, a soft voice beckons for the candor that would not dare seek out the light.

Quite daunting it is, sweet child of the night, but only until you allow the truth to find it’s sight.

Tell me dear, what is it that has brought you here?

Is it dread, is it guilt, perhaps it is shame?

Here, a small echo of pain is a sweet song for broken souls to reclaim.

In. And out.

Feel the tension in your muscles and the cloud around your mind.

Now push it away. For here, only solace you will find.

It hasn’t been easy, you carrying all this weight. Speak freely, burdened one, to what other fate?

I’ll tell you this now, as you chose to avow,

For not what they have done, but what have I? It is simply a making of your own forsaking.

Speak it loudly into the abyss, here there is no sorrow missed or beaten hands that won’t be kissed.

It is no question you have done some wrong but my beautiful soul, in a world where blight is gold, you do belong.

Release the words you’ve told yourself, to me, they are nothing else.

Return back to the vacant place behind those eyes where warmth once paced.

This is all you really need to know; where pain once lived love can grow.

Forgive yourself for what you’ve done and think of what is yet to come.

The dark night of the soul will not hurt you

Do not let your name be your affliction it is your greatest virtue.

-A.Y.

I don’t know if I realized I belonged until the meaning of the word had to be reimagined by loss.

We all take something for granted in our lives don’t we?

I always thought my tribe would be here. With me. Until better I shall meet.

How entitled. To think they owed me their time, their ears, their care.

How self righteous to think they’re dreams should be supported only when mine preceded. Wasn’t I always the one that was supposed to leave first?

But now here I am. Left behind.

Stunted and still.

I think it is I who owes you.

You showed me how much I could feel. How overwhelmingly scary but beautiful love can be.

To be loved and accepted and encouraged without any prior obligation? How fucking lucky I am.

Please understand I could never be so unequivocal and fierce towards the world if you hadn’t shown me how to be first.

While I may stand here still and quiet it is not out of anger or desperation.

I am just rooting myself deeper into the soil that built us so we will have a place to come back to.

I stand here in utter admiration and fervor. Grateful for the great portion of my life that I got to see you grow and flourish.

I know soon the world will bow to you and the earth will bend at your will in awe of your strength.

But I also know there will be days when you feel like that same earth is engulfing you. Just know I will always be here to pull the dirt out of your lungs. I promise I will travel miles to do so.

If you have learned anything from me let it be resilience. Stand tall as we have taught one another to do, and know that you are worthy of it all.

For most of my life I didn’t know where I belonged. But I do now.

And that is because of you.

Tonight I cried. My wailing and laughing echoed through the valley where my little home sits.

I walked a path only remembered by my little children’s size 5 shoes.

Every year when the last rain falls I fear the wet concrete will lose the power it holds over my memory. But alas it all came back to me even more evocative than before.

My old bones rattled and jumped when the sprinklers bolted on. Me and the jovial energy of my youth ran and giggled through the water like it was the only chore left for the day.

I hid from street lamps and avoided every crack on the sidewalk.

My heart did ache when I discovered I no longer had to jump to reach the branches of the trees that crouched over the path. So I closed my eyes and let the leafs sweep my skin and remember my touch once again. They caressed my face so gently I know they were welcoming me back.

The excitement in my body could not be contained as I made my way to the playground where groundies was a Friday night ritual and evading parents was a given.

I sat on the swings and hummed to the song of the wind whipping past my ears.

When dusk had settled and night had fallen the twinkle of the suburbs started to buzz in harmony with the bullfrogs.

I laid in the grass and watched the moon unveil itself from the clouds. It told me of the things I used to wish for upon it’s arrival, and offered to tender my desires once more.

I said my goodbyes to the markers of many an adolescent year and headed back to my childhood home.

As I watched my clompy adult feet wander their way back up, I smiled to myself, safety and security finally found their way back to me.

I spent so long trying to flee from this place. I blamed it for changing me and losing myself. I got so sick of looking at the same benches and trees and street lamps. But within it was me, all of me. I have always been here.

And there at the top of the hill was my little home. Lit up and perfect. Crowded with trees and scars and life.

So much has changed; my childhood friends are no longer here, I can’t call out to my dog sitting on the porch, the lake that was once here is dried up, and I can’t always remember all of my favorite days from youth, but that perfect little house is here and the green vast land of many memories that lie behind it still breathes.

I’m sorry I couldn’t love you then.

It had nothing to do with you. I think you’re the kind of person that shakes this world up and changes it for good. I’m sorry people constantly made you question yourself, question your worth so that you were always trying to impress and were crushed when you didn’t. I’m sorry the people that should have loved you the most didn’t. Especially me. I was the cruelest of all. I wanted you to feel shame about what you did when you were struggling because I couldn’t understand that the chaos you let ensue was some form of self harm for the hatred you felt towards yourself. You drank and you gave yourself away like a ticket to all the other lonely bidders. You looked for approval in everyone else but me. Couldn’t you see how much I needed it? But let us not forget you were light you were love and you were the center of many a universe. I’m sorry I let you forget that. You swore and you fought and you clawed through the dirty walls that raised you, and I am so proud of you. I’m sorry that I haven’t told you that enough. I’m sorry that the world beat you down and took advantage of the beauty that used to lead you through it. I’m sorry I have sit silently by while hatred became your new guide. Most of all I’m sorry I couldn’t love you. I am trying my best now. Hopefully the next time we write more praise and love will fuel the words.

Yours and mine alone together.

The grass isn’t greener.

The air is thick and the clouds lay low.

A dried moat surrounding a once prosperous abode, dominates the landscape.

Within the trench lie memories scorned into the earth by hate and acrimony.

Virtue left unprotected, unnourished.

Here I find myself exiled by transgressions made unto myself.

Yearning for the lavish forthcomings of faith and assurance I felt I could not attain.

A withered mind defeated by ignorance and self doubt.

A land of my own making. A desolate empty place of my minds dwellings. Thoughts of little worth and self deprivation.

I no longer wish to be here.

To her it wasn’t something that elicited a bellowing roar or revenge to be had against every pair of lovers in the city. It was quiet. It was a harrowing pain deep in her chest. It was shame and guilt for wanting something so desperately she drove herself mad pursuing it only for her to be cast out and looked down upon by it. She tore the feathers off the wings on her back to be grounded but the ground pulled her so far she was always looking up. Others could only see how long her face hung in a yielding manner. It made her weak. It made the world taste bitter. And she too became bitter. Small weak and bitter.

Do you think you’d be lonely without the company of your own face? To not know what it is to another. To feel so caged within yourself, to not know your own expressions or know they are a comfort to someone out there. Even the most inexorable vial rage can not seep through. Every person that looks at you sees a mirror to project what may or may not be there. You simply become an empty vessel for a self involved world. It’s there. I suppose your face is there, but there is nothing prospering among it.