dearest ones

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dearest ones

dear soldier. thanks for the rescue and for loving a broken thing.

dear artist. thank you for singing my name. for making me hear it again.

dear writer. thank you for writing my name and making me see it again. for dreaming up stories and rewriting mine. and ours. for endless streams of words that cut to the bone, mend the flesh and bind the heart. for ink on paper. for iron and heart in a final cast.

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dancing ion

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dancing ion

Gliding the snow

Soaring the sky

Swimming the deep

A True Gemini

 

Heart of Deep

Mind of Glass

You could not keep

You stayed in the past

 

A thousand sorry’s I wish I’d said

A thousand I love you’s 

Unsaid in my head

 

Mother, fighter, Iron heart

You did well

You did your part

 

You were a half-moon

You were a monsoon

You are a dancing Ion

A dandelion

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vice grip

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vice grip

the vice grip pulls a little more

from the other side

its hold is hot and full of bile

all secrets here hide

squitting like a dog, kicked to many times

roadkill in the fog

 i resist but then i slide

 

the one is shorter

than the other half

not only in the body

but also in the heart

 

i take a step toward the water

but the foot has left the leg

i fall into the fire like the fools daughter

it laughs, i laugh

then i beg

 

i crawl from underneath it

see a glimpse of myself

i reach to touch my fingers

i feel, i feel, i felt

 

release is what i long for now

i would prefer to forget

no matter the price

i would pay the happy debt

to rid this vessel of this pain

this pain that does not moove

nor change nor bend

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the bark and the tree

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the bark and the tree

just You and me, your devotee

close as the bark and the Tree

 

your secret keeper

your daughter, yet deeper

 

you were all of everything

all the songs I dreamed to sing

 

You gave your self as did I

surely, none of this could ever Die

 

yet here You are not, and I thought I was there

to whom shall we allot the most solitude to bear

 

I wish it was translucently clear

You are the wound most raw and dear

 

all that is seen is the dark hole we Both left

the truth is that it too was a theft

 

i wish it were simpler, much less complex

not this empty tormenting mess

 

for the longing is much but most of all

simply an unexpected phone call

 

the question hangs, who is to blame

a mountain of unanswered…let’s just say game

 

for sparing feelings and hiding pain

is the game we play, again and again

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thing is

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thing is

 thing  is

 

isn’t  that bad

shouldn’t be sad

 

the things said

made of air and lead

as iron melts

on a psyche dead

 

first ears then heart

start

go away go away

things said are true today

 

a joke this is! laughable?

the whole lot? all of it!

a joke of time, heart and spit?

 

where is the sound

their are no laughs

perhaps lost all senses

perhaps lost all past

 

everyone knows

it’ll eventually lose it

 

life and living

delicate dreams

caring and carrying

balancing bullshit

 

everyone knows it

it’s going to drop it

thing is

it knows

it’ll probably brake it

 

as simple as strings

how hard it clings

thing is

it knows

it’ll probably erase it

 

hearing hears as hearing hears

breaking is as breaking brakes

does it smell like vanilla or packaged drops

of stifled words and aching rocks

 

an iron pot

of pop rocks and rot

 

can one fix a wooden heart?

perhaps if it knew where to start

a potion maybe? too many already

 

alas

it has not yet lost

still intact

firm as frost

 

thing is

it still loves you see

it’s

it still hears, breaks and spits

 

it will try and try

to not to knot

brake, damage, loose or drop

 

it will try to carry

try to care

till it dies

of ache or air

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when you went

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when you went

when you went

any preparation I foolishly thought I might have

no matter how perfect or imperfect we were

no matter the time lost

no matter the distance in space or heart or mind

a black hole swallowed me whole

to a place with no time

were no reason exists

regardless of circumstances

illnesses

regardless of any pain of any kind

regardless of everything that was and everything that was not

nothing compared to the torment

of the realisation that

simply

I could not get into my car and drive to your door

and be loved by you once more

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