light
this light casts a shadow on me,
one side,
one half,
but I am trapped between the light and the darkness,
this penumbra
a shadow draping itself across my cheek,
cloaking my left arm
and covering my hips
this shadow of the past
from yesterday, last week, last month and beyond
it is so warm and inviting
I feel safe in this cloak of my past
all that has happened up until now
the moment the colour rushed to my cheeks when I saw you
and when I was drained of my blood completely, when I saw you
(with her)
when every meal I ate was a plateful of screws and nuts and bolts and slowly my energy escaped from my shell of a body
when I was pinned up against a wall and swords were thrown at my body by my best companion,
my soul mate,
this blanket of darkness pulls me further back,
it grows arms and legs and claws and grips and seizes me
but I see this light,
this aura,
it is unclear of its shape but I see flashes of myself in the future
in a city where no one knows my name
but where I have found myself
surrounded by faces new and old,
who have lifted me above their heads and are passing me along, in a crowd
until I see you,
whoever you are,
you are so opaque
but I can see your smile from this darkness
and beside you, whoever you are,
stands me:
buoyant, vibrant, clear, strong
my head no longer swivels on my shoulders but is ******* on tight
and my eyes are fixed on one point and breathe life into whatever they are fixated on
I look so sure of myself,
I look like me
and this light brushes my right hand,
and my right temple,
and my right thigh
stroking me gently,
summoning me
she is so vivid and kind
but this darkness,
he is so strong and rough
I have been back to the umbra many times,
****** back into the blackness until the light disappears
it is the only home I’ve known and where my mind wants to go
but this light is so new,
I can stand in front of her,
move into the antumbra,
move in front of the darkness, escape the grasp and shower myself in her
in this new me,
who I want to be,
the struggle persists,
he is my serpent in the garden of Eden,
the Jekyll to my Hyde,
the strongest bottle of absinthe,
and so I am stuck
in this penumbra
shadow clutching; light washing
and I must turn my gaze inward and decide:
which force will I allow to win?
which force will rule me from now on?

i wish my words could reach you
because maybe then
you would open your eyes
and see
that you deserve every compliment you get,
and that you are a product of the gods;
that the sun's gentle kisses have seeped into your bones,
and that stardust is in your veins;
that your blood is divine and oceanborn,
and that your skin is the sand of that very same ocean;
that your eyes are vortexes of mystery and desire,
and that your smile is the planets aligning;
that your mind is a beautiful enigma;
and that you are simply
miraculous.

but i don't think my words reach you,
and, honestly,
i'm not sure they ever will.

but in the meantime,
just remember that your skin is the sand,
and that the blood of the ocean doesn't deserve to be spilled.

just remember that your eyes are vortexes,
and that they don't deserve the tears that so often fill them.

and,
if you will,
just remember that i love you.

(a.m.)

For the days when you're moving so slow
and the universe is moving so fast.

The moon’s light faded beneath a sweatshirt of clouds;
ancient stars lost their luster;
Saturn’s rings dismembered themselves
the night you typed goodbye.

There is a pile of children’s blocks stacked up beside this mother’s apron; they spell out centuries of secluded memories, long since forgotten, purposefully or not. They carry our futures back into our pasts, delicate fingers tearing letters which gravitated together to reveal each precious truth of our existence.

And only time has told, will tell, that the understanding is ours alone until the remainder are ready; the whole spectrum of them, beyond family and friends, plus all of their stories stained into our skin. Such sweet sacred dirt unearthed by surprising realizations and uncovered destinations that we simply can’t ignore anymore.

Our interlocked worlds are willing and breathless, revved up to conquer both ocean and sky; you and I, we swing swiftly on crescents of moons, reaching clusters of stars with sharp, charming limbs. The planets keep secrets they won’t tell aloud, but the point is the shift, progressive and planned, and all we must do is keep on.

I can only predict, mere musings in certainty, the impending events in my old, anxious hands: two brilliant hearts working swiftly in tandem, exposing rivers of dreams under orange-tinted skies. Our souls open wide, blissful and free, illuminated from the fire of invisible suns. And through the colors in our eyes we see untamed heat, ready to be contained and trained.

The stars had it right, their secrets are ours, and we know them to be both burden and gift. We’ll unlock the gates, leave them unbound and clear; to close them would cause a commotion. And last but not least, the final release, as we position each clock face down in the earth to create paths for forgotten time.

--

Truth: one day we’ll reach into the darkest depths of our pockets to grasp the skeleton keys that bind us both to the past: you hide mine, I’ll hide yours, and our love will meet in the middle.

Thinking that maybe there is music on planets other than our own
With different tones that we just can’t seem to hone
And instruments like triple necked trombones made of recycled robotic bones
Rockstar aliens playing in bands and doing gigs on planets in neighbouring zones
A gigantic galactic space tour to call their own and silver and chrome skyscraper cities to rock and roam