The Wilderness

I'm not sure where you go when you go there.

I'm not sure why you go when you do.
I can only think that it must be me.

Something I said or did, something between me and you.

The thoughts of you that cross my mind are both slender and long.

Well buffered and protected from the wide, deep and painful love that insists it must prolong.

I've been hurting for a while now and I know you like to heal,

So the question becomes what will you do with me when all your work prevails?

Will you still want me in the sunlight,

or do I only attract you when I am sullen in the rain?

Wet and covered in fallen leaf

shivering in pain.

The little hurt lost girl is being broken from her wooden shell and

all her morsely goodness is hovering in stasis, uninvited and overwhelmed.

Remind me what it means to you, the friendship that we've made

I'm afraid I've lost you out here in the wilderness, alone like the birds refrain.

Hollow

Torrential rains
Leave stagnant pools.
Mosquito festers in a
Spider web.
Girl can't clear her eyes
Of tears and memory dust.

Lost at sea is actually
Close to shore.
Figure ate's
Disproportionate
Waist.
Lost in old rituals

Recovering from
Uncovering
Truths.

Go away
And
Come back
To the same place
Again.

Same friends.
Nothing has changed.


Go away
And
Come back
Again.
Won't last forever.

Someday you come back
And they are all gone.
Why stay yourself she asks the old woman in the mirror.

She promised.
She says, she'd never leave
Like that.

Not a whole lotta reason to stay now though.

Even the old woman might agree. Not much left inside or out that's worth saving.

Don't even need to pack a bag. There's nothing where I'm going.

the up side of the down

Heart hurts.
Drain it out.
Wring whats left into the flower pots.

Grow something.
Make something useful.
Do something with yourself
you ridiculous dreaming little girl.

Create oxygen for others to breathe.
That's simple enough.

Seed babies and mothers in bloom.

Tear down the structure in a rampage
(Fuck that feels so good.)

Or dismantle it piece by piece.

The tedious ballerina on point
at the top of an upside down ladder.
Backwards and blindfolded, with
instructions for deconstruction written in a
foreign language.

Still looking perfectly pretty in pink.
And of course corseted.

There is no room for love here.
Not in my heart or in my belly
or in my body or my brain.


There's never enough room at the top.
Ladders aren't built for two.

This Mourning.

Falling through space
Tears like ribbons fraying at the ends.
No end in sight
Just nausea
and chattering teeth.

Dreams built up high into the sky
Remembering they are
actually made of sand
as they disintegrate
piece by piece and bit by bit into the sea.

I am unsure what will be left of me.
What has been made up of him or i or
him and i

simply shaken to the core.

Volcanic rumblings.
Ancient hot seed
kernal of fire.

Desire to be stripped down to fit through the
secret miniature doors being opened and closed in my soul
revealing dreams of spilled blood.. of veins cut the wrong way.

The soil is barren, the land gone fallow.
Want to shove my fingers in it deep and
grab at the heart of the earth.
Dig holes and fill them with ever blooming
plants.

Want to fill all the pots as evidence of my presence.
Want to remember her beauty.
Want to look back at the ribbons blowing in the wind.