Dreamworld

 The other night,
I found you in a dream.
You were tender and kind
and offered momentary affection.
Even in this dreamworld
you left.

I awoke
feeling emptied of
the intense intimacy
you could provide
and chose
to take 
away.

Shoreline

Paused,
I stood on the boardwalk
unsure of how close
to the Atlantic's edge
I could allow 
my planted feet.

I slept on the beach
as the sun drifted
to horizon
and I still
could not touch my
body to the 
water.

I knew then
that if I 
sought peace
at the shoreline
I would find myself there.

Yearning and sad.
Emptying what 
came before 
and making space
for the new.

Unsure if I could
continue grieving
what came and went,
what did not
happen.

Hoping for more
and fearing the possibility
all at once. 

The shoreline contained
both open and closed ends
of whatever it is
that led me to the ocean water.

The shore revealed
all parts of me
alone and seeking
something other
than the company
of my own mind.

And so I left
the ocean
and its company
a day early
because I was not ready
to hold
what its waters
led me
to face.

There is no voice louder than my own (lavender)

I wish I could describe
the voice in my head,
with all its power,
as kind.
As a friend.

On its fifth hour
of circling around
with reminders
of what I do not deserve,
I look to another voice
any other sound,
to silence my own.

A friend sends me the song
"Lavender".
For a moment,
my mind calms.
My chest makes space
for breath.

After a few minutes
of peaceful silence
I let me voice speak.
This time it's easier on me.

Maybe the voice in my head
is in need of a friend.
A kind word.
An embrace.
Some lavender.

Ghosts

I won’t convince you either way.
You decided this
before you met me.

I picture
the ghosts
that may reside in your heart,
ones you haven’t made peace with.

I hope you find enough ground
to feel safe letting another in.
It seems that
in keeping people at a distance
they leave in the end.

A self-fulfilling prophecy.

Perhaps you said those things
to be kind.
Or maybe they were your truth.
At any rate,
I wish your
heart
had room for me.

I’m no exorcist.
My light
shines too bright sometimes
in dark corners.
I can’t dim it.
Not even for you.

After I left your place,
I went to the water.
I’m not ready to
walk with this,
knowing our brief
encounters are over.

I sit in the heaviness of it,
equally as freeing for me,
as I know we negotiated
the best we could.

At the water I release
ghosts of my own.
I see them for what they are.

Some hope goes with them.
I see you with clear eyes.
Kind and gentle.
Perhaps lost in your own head.
Unsure, tempted and fearful.

I can’t pull out of you
words I’d like to hear.
I can’t hope you’ll become
something you are not.

Despite the release,
I'd like to believe
you won’t become
yet another ghost
my words try their best
to understand.

Unveiled

I really thought you were different.
Healthy, even.
Did I pursue you
because you were unavailable, too?

I felt your words had
emotion behind them.

Maybe I wasn’t
listening deeply enough.
Maybe I heard
what I wanted to hear.