to fall
once more
under
the pen
of a failed
poet

do your
knees shake?

does your
spine tingle
when
you
think of me?

                                         . . . do you think of me?

   -  ha!
I'm still running
that
groove deeper
into the ground

it only works
if you want
it too

(it's only
ever been
me that
wanted it)

when you
get drunk
and get
all the attention
from
all those
room temperature
knuckle-draggers,
do you ever
regret
heaving
me back
into the night?

do you ever
think, " I ****** up, he was unlike
                     any man i've ever known, he really cared
                           about me."







no







you don't




I think
it for you

for me

to feel
better about
myself





and you?
well,


you're not alone
somewhere

busy not
writing poetry
about me

the battle was
and yes i saw
a tempest

to tell to all
not a victor here
nor a conquered
just a soul not dead

Zeus was called upon
   and failed
the Titans were called upon
   and failed

men fought unaided
   as always

I tried to sleep away the pain that didn't work
I tried to cry my pain away that didn't work
I tried to over dose my pain away that didn't work
I tried to ignore my pain and pretend to be happy that didn't work

I got lured by the match you had,
I let you break down my walls.
Instead of illuminating my dark corners,
You burned me into an ash doll.

You’re 17.
Sunday mass at Church.
Eyes bright. Heart open.
Sign of peace.
A meeting of warm hands across the pew.
Heart aflutter, eyes lowered.
You think, God brought us together.

Sundays are quickly
becoming your favourite day of the week.
Eyes meeting, cheeks blushing
In between the homily.
Weekly meetings turn into bi-weekly dates into marriage.

You’re 24.
You say, God I can’t do this anymore.
Eyes bitter. Hearts closed.
Night-shifts. Poker weekends. Empty houses.
Wordless, soulless, meaningless co-existence.
You think, God brought us together?
No amount of hail marys
Can save us.

That Saturday
Night shift at the Hospital.
Hand sneaking under scrubs.
A breakdown of marriage
Vows.
Heart pounding. Eyes open.
Your saviour.
God’s answer?

Summer glow softens to autumn gold
And leaves become brittle to the changes
Of winters white blanket of cold

Head and heart compete with choices almost made
As love struggles to argue with valid reason
Neither prepared to give in to risks, evenly weighed

Winter chill covers the summer warm
Choice is made, and logic sends an artic shiver
Into a burning heart, love is silenced under the icy chloroform

Almost touched the never ending of us, nearly begun
But love is a rainbow arch that needs its mirror
My head saw, what my heart denied, there was no reflection