There Lies Life
Those nights had felt
Much the same as this.
Drops of individual thought
Fell through my throat,
Compiling into a briny sea
Within tar-covered lungs.
She came to me like
Cravings of nicotine.
I cut myself to see
If my blood was green;
It wasn’t, so I can’t
Be sure what it says about me.
Weightlessly, another nameless spirit
Drifts directionless through the void.
A shock had confused the senses,
Mutilating physical sensations.
So, her heart finally stirred in protest,
Violently with a classic expulsion, rippling
The life from her neglected suit.
We assumed relief or peace, but
As the pulsing heat within her veins softened,
And the shade of color drained from vision,
And the realization had come and left
—forgotten and unimportant.
The understanding, which we had known
Our life was to end as it had,
Upon the first demented dream
To enter her unbloodied wrist
Makes for trivial amusement.
I knew it to be this way
For the same reason
We know anything.
Reflect the writing within
To show the master’s hand.
What we do with knowledge
Weighs as much without it.
I have known this, just as I knew you
Once, as a comforting reminder
That death’s desserts arrive—albeit
Later than expected—though, just as enthused
Are we to not be.
She never found the words,
But I’ve made peace.
This was the warmth of a friend,
Whose return was as routine as meeting
By the Old Wye Mill after sixth period.
Armed with a scandalous scrap of gossip,
Accompanying a fiendish smirk, sandwiched
Between two sets of pink, spiraling dimples.
This place holds no marks familiar to the mill,
Nor any place we had visited, except
For the timeless moments asleep.
I know her question before her lips parted.
Had pleasure been all
Which the oracles had sung?
Or intelligence, or wisdom, or love?
Did knowing bring peace, or
Love fulfillment? What of happiness?
What made you smile? Of all things,
Those are to be cherished the most.
I confused the high for reason,
Believing in whatever felt sincere—
Blaming whatever I felt I needed to.
Those wounds had felt so real
Only a lifetime ago.
The stars whirl through the endless cosmos.
Upon the seams of my dress, sending a breath
Of wind through the gnarled braids of vagabonds,
Troubadours, bandits, priests and knaves alike.
Though, I had no feet, I danced. Though sounds
Failed to pierce, I continued hearing their tunes.
Growth and movement are all I cling to.
If one were to cease,
Then, I am all I was to be.
Our energies embrace, though,
I recall lonesome nights
Beneath shattered black skies
With tears obscuring the flickering
Glow of fireflies, and celestial lights;
The days of tramping through spiked thorn bushes,
And the vicious droppings of holly trees,
Which burrowed within the folds of fabric.
Our youthful light not yet tarnished
With jarring pains and pangs,
And suspicious libations from lofty bastards,
Who touch themselves to thoughts of status.
Be quick to preserve our truths.
A cycle of treachery forces the ink stains
To fade before the pen can remind the soul
Of what it had already known.
You, whose light shone clearest
Amidst nights of sorrow and spins,
Or the drugs and fake friends,
Led me from the lies she’d conjure
Like a demented host with a crusty
Rag covering our evening mistake.
I had never feared death; neither the pain,
nor the tremors, nor the ones I’d leave behind.
Take the words she wrote in this life,
And toss them wherever our carcass lies;
They were always for her.
I hope the others might forgive for
I had never felt the spark of creation
Til we reunited—my soul’s flame.
Should our paths falter as they have,
then, find me wherever I am pushed,
For my life is as empty as a promise without
The presence you instilled upon my demeanor,
And the fortification of my character.
Lead me against whatever weather,
Fair or treacherous—It matters not.
I never feared death, nor the pain,
And I won’t fear our parting.
We lost each other once,
And we may again,
But our threads
In the nameless
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