Cold January. Heated furnace.

And you, my dear, refuse to sleep.

I think of you.

And lights across the window sweep,

And droplets freeze upon its surface.

My eyes meet yours. We dim the lights.

And suddenly, as one, we’re breathing

My hands, around you, interweaving,

I recollect the gone by nights.

My heart is burning, raging wild.

You place, your hand upon my chest.

Confess, softly whisper, “child...”

Only the silence when I can’t deny it.

You are a decrepit home
and I am a crowbar,
familiarizing myself with your insides.
I am not rusting from the waterbed,
my skin is not tarnished.

I am strong and bludgeoning the windows,
there's blood, beneath your gums
as I swing, knock out your teeth-
this time,
I am inside of you.

Your knuckles fail,
with the first blow;
broken, unable to push down
the folds of my underwear.
I plant a bruise like a kiss
on your right cheek, erupting
into a display of consequences
for your actions.

In my dreams, I scream
your name. Under the surface, I am your messiah
with the sunrise of bruises tracing my broken rib.
I am your adam, using my pain to create
strength.

I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
or maybe
to see you one more time

We need to thank the people
that gave us support this year
that understood our pain
The people that never left us
Their presence
Their voices
Their words
gave us hope
to never give up

And to let you know

Your words are talking to me now

You are not there

But your feel is

I talk idiotically

I answer the questions you posed

I was too busy then

I couldn’t answer to them

I was not with you

Not there with you when needed

Not there when it drizzled

Not there under a clear blue sky

Not on the path we trod once

Held hands

Stole kisses

I was not there when I had to be

You did well

You left your memories behind

Only to be reawakened

Each time I go through it

Every time I pay a visit to your ‘world of words’

I  understand this

All over again

You are away to the stars

Not with me anymore

It’s hard, Ohh, it is!

To believe you are gone

Left with I am, your writings

Keeping you alive through it

Still talking me

I keep coming back to it

And yes call me selfish

I only read about wonderful times

And not about the hard times you wrote of

It is even harder as I try

To close my eyes

To believe you are still here

In this realm

Prized possessions

As it yours

The only thing that takes me to you

Only thing I am left with

Where do you run
From yourself?
To day-dreams ? to temporary highs?
To the never-ending motions of living?
Where do you run
When surrounded by mirror paned high walls?
For at every turn you run into yourself.
All that is left is something
With no end, no beginning,
Just the unrelenting turn of wheels.