Clandestine

Four yards down,
Lingering wistfully by
The fading roses
I could hear your mind working,
Trying to figure out
Where the truth lay.
It seemed like I was
Defending the devil,
Keeping alive
The poisonous tendrils
As they strangled
All that was once
Good and new.

But I was not.

Inside,
I exposed the stifling scream,
Willing you to open your mind
And simply hear
All that I had been
Surreptitiously hiding from you.

She was so loud
I failed to understand
How the world
Was not deafened and destroyed
By her ravishing voice.

Writing important messages

The message you wrote,
amid the condensation
on the window to my soul,
ran.

Does she laugh with you?
OR at you?
Does she talk to you?
OR down to you?

Does she?
Does she?
Well, does she?

But it’s only in my head.
What did I expect?
Something.

Silence Here

What happens when you hit the breaks
And silence becomes your only friend.
A silence so loud
It tears your world apart.

So here is your silence
The friend that you never had.

A friend that you never wanted
Who appeared out of no-where.

Maybe that is where you are
No-where.

And are you happy there?
In that silent place.

You hit the breaks looking for an escape.
One last effort to eradicate the pain
Ease the blame.

But all you found was silence
Which nothing could penetrate.

Still
You hit the breaks.
And are you happy?
And are you really happy?

Girl A

Disappearing from view,
disappearing,
slipping from you,
consuming myself
thin;
the last
the first
it was always you,
all the rest just
in between.
Kissing the sky
late at night
I closed my eyes
as time went by.
If I was lost,
if I was faithless,
you found me
exceeding,
dreaming,
nameless.

The End of Perfection

Nothing is made perfect.

No modern day miracle
to remove damaged flaws
or hand out redemption
to those who would otherwise flee
in the face of overwhelming truth.

Truth.

It's burning a hole
through knowledge
through acceptance
through existence.

And I watch
as my soul seeps out
escaping into the in-between.

Where now the strength?

You decided long ago
it could never last
destined to wear then fade
unable to outwit the inevitable.

I could never last.

Because nothing is made perfect.

On Low

Turn me down
low
to that place
just above the
blackness
where life
is indistinguishable
from whatever comes
next.

A Little More Room

Light falls between
all our dreams,
slipping past
the distant memories
without waking them.

And you say
it was pleasant,

for a while.