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Three times in my life I failed to deploy my armies on time,
failed to unstrap my armor and lay down my shields,
expose my chest, honest.
Take me.

Three times there has been an eclipse for which I wasn't equipped to see.

Sometimes I'd mistake your occurrence with that of a natural disaster.
I'd take cover.
Not willing to pardon my fears for a chance to dance with a hurricane
who identified himself as a tropical storm.
They say the difference is miles per hour.
We all know the difference is in how they allow themselves to be perceived.

On the days you touched down
beneath my armor
your aftermath was a smile that broke my face.
I was born with a need for earthquake scars but you
came to my landscape with conquer chest
convinced my natives to dance different.
You showed up with hunting, soil aggregation, and medicine.
I laid down my virgins for you in sacrifice.
In silhouette.
In your presence all my armor turned to tent sheet
transparent in the moonlight
until the fire went out.

Three times in my life I failed to peel back my Band-Aids fast enough.
Offer up my wounds for healing.
Yes, there is blood beneath these words,
there's a man on the other side of this voice, clutching
on a stone he soon realizes- his heart.
He's done slain the last of the dragons,
come back to a vacant cave, weeping
he talks to the skeleton that surrounds him,
swears the sky is as thin as his flesh,
swears he hears a voice on the other side
talking in terms of confession.

Three times in my life I can say, you're married now.
We speak to each other through veils.
It doesn't matter how much liquor we drink in tandem
or the size of the table between us
or the volume and shape of the laugh
or the impression that's left by the hug,
you're married now.

I was right to feel like a farmhouse on the wrong side of a tornado warning.
Where everything weighs nothing.

In the midst of a drought I retrofit my barnyard with castle walls,
pine over how I'm perceived,
pray for rain,
and practice my best impression of a storm cloud
because there's a man on the other side of this wind tunnel
and I'm tired of letting him down.
Jordan P Sanders Apr 2013
Moral depravity is a commercial asset
*** is love
Love only happens to beautiful people
People with chiseled jaws unstrap silken bras
Bras are meant to be **** and not intelligible
Intelligence is secondary to primary skill sets
Set up the idyllic world in your imagination
Imagine that you will one day know the answers to everything
Everything will be simpler and no one will hurt you
You, the delicate breadwinner who scored perfect SAT's
Sat down by harsh lessons that cannot be studied with the help of Adderal
Add up all your triumphs and they will only be a 63 percent
You have failed life
Li[F]e.
Tommy N Oct 2010
When you make a mess
and both laugh.
When her hair gets caught in the dial of your watch.
When your glasses scratch her clavicle.
When hands are too cold
and goosebumps ripple up thighs.
When bodies knock
into furniture, and you have to stop.
When you spill water on the nightstand.
When you wobble the lamp
and shadows lean across the bed.
When her flesh dials a coworkers’ numbers on your cell
or the phone just rings.
When your “Harry Potter” audiobook plays on shuffle.
When church is in seven hours.
When the shower is too hot
and you jump back out onto the duck-shaped mat,
she laughs at you, calls you a wimp.
When the bath is too cold and the upper drain
gurgles like a drowning obese man,
there are never enough bubbles.
When she tastes like soap.
When you talk about your days and thoughts
wander to tangential curves and your mutual
acquaintance Steve, you forget what is happening.
When clothing gets stuck on heads, twist of feet,
elbow crooks, and in the wheels of an office chair.
When it is still on your floor, and your grandma visits
at lunch she smiles saying you found a nice girl.
When you try something new.
When you miss.
When straps and buckles never
unstrap or unbuckle.
When your fingers panic,
they are charged like blades.
When the moon.
When you’re late.
When you don’t want to put your bra back on.
When you hair is off kilter like a bonsai tree.
When it was almost like dancing.
When someone sneezes.
When you hiccup.
When she breathes.
When drool.
When scratches.
When bitten.
When church is in four hours.
When the laundry tumbled on.
When the oven started to smoke.
When you forgot.
When tickled.
When kicking.
When hurting.
When doors unlocked.
When his belt buckle shocks your navel.
When arms ache and legs cramp.
When curled the next morning in each other.
When it’s cold across the room, and
your clothes are so far.
When you miss church.
When eyelashes rub each other.
When the sun.
When you try to talk.
When moaning.
When sighing.
When screaming.
When getting back.
When breaking apart.
When getting back.
When your lips smash together like trains.
When you fold the cloths after.
Written 2010 during the English program at Augustana College
Sean GJ Cullery Apr 2015
You barricade yourself behind a different smile everyday
A facade to convince them that you know only a life of happiness
My heart finds itself on its knees begging to catch a glimpse what it is you hide
Wondering if ever I will lay eyes on the trail that leads back to your heart
Someone having branded marks on a painite embellished by heaven
Every nerve in my body yearning tell you that in the depth of the Titanic I would have been your life jacket
I want to know when you are hurting
I want to know when you find yourself in solitary confinement
Your mind riddled with fear and eyes drowning in tears
I want to know!!
And finally when I am certain I know
I will let the tight embrace of my heart keep you warm and safe
Unable to unstrap yourself from its affection, I will softly whisper in your ear
And remind you that all of my being loves you,
And that all of my heart is yours
Amethyst Fyre Mar 2017
Q: Why should I care for dance competitions or cupcakes or make-up or grades?**

A: Because otherwise, there is nothing to distract from the futility. Nothing to obscure the purposeless fatigue. No vines to ensnare your ankles. Nothing to bind you to the cold earth and spinning tides, becoming all too easy to unstrap your wings and run from the roof, no longer forced to fly.

Without the superficial, I would have already died.

— The End —