Holding long to longing,
longing, holed to holding,

I ode my tale for bold forboding.

Swiftly shores sung,
ripping, reaping, revealing

I stopped just short of saint-like stealing.

Madly minutes mumbled,
syllables stuck, syrup

My thoughts no longer mine to stir up.

Sometimes I wondered if my heart
fell asleep
the way
my limbs would
when I would put
too much pressure
on them,
its awakening spurring spurns
that punished its daring ascent
Until the pressure had passed and so had time.

I sat there wilting with your heart in my hands,
And it was symbolic at best the way my tears fell and mixed with the blood, a tye-dye of pain and exasperation.
Each tear fell heavier than the last as if the pain grew both inside and out.
Crying was supposed to help.
I thought it was supposed to be shedding
the pain of failure, loss, and rejection.
Instead, each drop just weaved its way into the pool of mysteries unsolved, sinking deeper and deeper until it was no longer clear exactly why I was leaking.

I spilled
my coffee
while it was hot.
I was
cold
and the contrast
was staggering.
It warmed
my
hands and not
my heart. My nerves
were jarred
sparse
they parted.
No one
knew my familiar brew.
No one ever told
me such
genius
came with such
loneliness.

nights like this are best wept clean.

To clean the slate of sadness
that seemed so irrevocably joyful
after its wash.

but nights like these I longed for the
storm to arrive.
Only to welcome eyes too dry.

I don't wish for sadness.
I do not wish for hurt.
I wish for tears that cleanse my soul.
I wish for tears that clean it, deep.

nights like these are best wept clean.

When you mourn
are your tears in vain?

Upon the scorn
you felt such shame.

Disadorn
emotion plain.

End the war
without refrain.

I told you to run while you could,
get out before it's too late.
because I was the friendliest to strangers
and the strangest to friends.
My heart had never been open to dividends.
But your strangeness was similar to my strangeness: pushing out of fear - or had I made you that way?
You despised Mr. Hyde more than I did, but you loved Dr. Jekyl fervently with more compassion than I could ever give him...

I told you how it sometimes felt like I was living another's life... and looking at it now it's like I was sitting on a perpetual swing: x distance forward and x distance back.

We lucked out for so long because I would pull when you would push, and when I pushed you would pull me back. And for a while we both pulled. And then forever onward we pushed. Or forever wayward. Sometimes pulling in doesn't keep people from going away. And when you push someone, you can't expect them to pull you back. Because not everyone is sitting on the same swingset.