Split

“Stay present,” 

He advises.

Lovingly;
Selflessly

“I don’t want
you split between
two places.”

I want to laugh

You see,
you’ve been with
me, in the
mountains of
West Virginia.

Along the shores
of the
Great Lakes.

I saw you in
the mouth of
Mammoth Cave.

When the fireworks
reflected in
the D.C. waters.

I haven’t left
your hometown
in weeks.

“I’ll do my best,”

I assure him.

I’ve been trying
to untangle my
feet
wrestle them into
one place

For over a year.

Overflow

The universe
must laugh
with twisted
knowing

It should have come
as no surprise -

this was built
on bricks of pain
amongst fleeting moments
of Hope.

Existing always
was a desire -
A sort of
understanding
that I would
be here, grow here,
once I stood
on solid ground.

I held out my hands;

“I’m ready,”

I promised.

She smiles
visualizing a
story

I see it
in greys and blues
and know not
how it ends.

As I watch,
my arms become
so full I
lose my balance.

Faltering, I
look to the shore
and ask for guidance.

“You asked,”

She smiles.

“And so you received.”

D minor

There are only so many 
chords and notes

I haven’t learned them
all and I’m not sure if -

Are these enough?

I know rhythms that
we've created
in innocent
moments

then there are the ones
he, of course,
added to
and spontaneously -

it's fluid and changing
and the lyrics do not
fit or seem to end -

Falter.
I’m no braver today
than yesterday.

I want to add to it
but what I have in front
of me can only take me
so far.

You see,
I wrote you a song.

I play it,
wondering
the ways you would
respond

Would you make it your own?

Would you want it to change?

The song starts in minor
the sound of its harmony
fades
into uncertainty.

What would you say
if I asked you to
finish it,
together?

I know the answer.

That’s not even the
right question.

I’m really asking -

Do you hear it in the
same ways
I do?

So far from the keys,
I don’t have the
ability
to write its end.

It’s there, though,
in chords and
notes that only
you know.

it flows, you see,
for you, alone.








loves

and in the end
or the beginning

which ever end
you start to
untangle or
string together

it's in loving them

both

that will
restore

or
renew

which ever
frame you
choose
it’ll be the
same picture

It’s not one
or the other

I keep trying to
picture either
course

and they begin
with loose ends
and finish
in tight knots

I’d rather hold
both

if they let me.

doubt

I know she came before

that summer
and the beach
the balcony plants
the orange tree

I understand
you said
you’ve moved on

I’m wondering
if moving on 
for you
means holding 
her space

while I
hold out
my heart

wondering if 
you’ll take it
while giving
your own
to her.

They say things change

I suppose it's true
that
connections and 
friendships 
wax and wane

that
falling in love
and career pursuits
take energy
and 
priority

Still I wonder
or maybe regret.

the
appraisal of life's
needs and 
obligations 
and my own wants 

it's the balance
I have not yet learned

the perfect blend

He tastes like lavender
feels like peppermint oil
on my skin

he is a combination
of warmth
and cooling air.

I am afraid
I will ask for too much
require
too much
hunger
for too much

that he will
leave
knowing
my desire
was more than
he could fill.

Rising

Eye contact
the intimacy involved
in a gaze
that does not look away
even when my own
breaks
from the vulnerability of it.

Falling for him isn't
falling at all.
It's a form of rising
into something
greater than myself.

Rising into
a choice
of selecting
healthy thoughts
to believe
over maladaptive
pervasive
patterns of painful ones.

My body opens for him
and not simply to please
but to be pleasured in return.

He told me in some ways
it feels like I'm
a part of him.

He is steady
secure
he is calming.

I like the idea
of my own self
being a part
of him.
And he of my own.

Falling for him
isn't falling at all.
I don't feel a need
to be caught.
I feel the impulse
to rise.

living room floor

I kept my winter coat wrapped 
around me
like it would
be ripped
from me

Like I had
something you lose.

Walking into your house,
I could taste the lingering
cigarette smoke

When silence felt suffocating,
we tried humor.

Finally you asked for
what we both knew
I would not,
perhaps could not,
give.

My feeling of resolve
demanded our attention.
I became aware that this time,
this meeting,
could not be kept afloat
from half of myself
given to you

I could not offer pieces
and call that love.

In that moment on the
floor of the room
where we both built
and collapsed
it was decided there would
be no last time.

I took responsibility for my
own feelings.
I took my healing seriously.

As if planned,
memories of the last
2 years played before us
in the realization
that I would no longer fit,
these were patterns
I could not sustain.

I remembered the day
you bought this house
and we stained the floor
installed a new rug
that we now baptize
with the remnants of grief.

We opened the door,
gutted the house and
attempted to restore
what we could.

As I went to leave,
I did not look back
in your direction.
I left the key on the kitchen table

I left us on the living room floor