Long Post

"For Lilli"

She has a heart so big
You feel your life's woes swallowed whole by the compassion of her soul
And you can't help but smile
Because she has an infectious kind of affection that renews your faith in man kind because hers never waivers
She hands out chances like candy at Halloween, even if the trick or treaters are only monsters in disguise
Because she doesn't know how not to love
And with every disappointment that flogs her in admonishment of her giving nature,
Her flesh peels back and she's slowly but surely being stripped and whittled away to nothing but a fragile vessel for this blood pump
pump pump pumping
give give giving
and I wonder when she'll run out of self to give
And she laughs and she smiles and masks the frantic panic making her manic as she wonders what she did wrong
And he
He has a soul so black that the devil needs a night light to sleep there
A conscience so empty the echo of rhetorical questions vibrates out a warning that only small children and dogs can sense
And behind the smile he flashes her way is an unapologetic joy in the power he holds over her
Because he knows
He knows he can take and take and take
And she'll take what she can get
And she gets what she deserves
Or at least that's what he has her believing
And as I see her shrink away
The rage in me expands and I want to smack that smirk off of his face and into a million yesterdays
Back to the first time he made her think she was less
the first time he made her think it was her fault
the first time he made her think she deserved it
the first time he made her think she'd never do any better
And I want to pull her away from this psychosis inducing hypnosis of a spell he's got her under
And tell her
You are beautiful, and worth so, so, so much more
Because if I told her that today
She would laugh
And smile
And shake her head
Say I don't understand, can't, won't, understand that he's a good man beneath it all
Misunderstood, if only I could see what she sees and I hope to God I never lose my sight like that
Because she's blind to the mind games he's playing with a stacked deck of attacks
And every time he raises his voice hand battering ram
She closes her eyes tight and waits for it to pass
Like it ever will
She's got a heart so big
You get lost in it
I just hope she doesn't lose herself in it all.

- - - -

"Ex Post Facto"

I can't say this to your face
Probably because you have this adverse affect on my typically steely spine
But I feel like if I don't say it
I'm going to keep staring at the futon you made up before you left
And wondering what I did wrong
The thing is
You got under my skin in a way I hadn't anticipated
And it bothers me more than you'll ever know
It started as an innocent, casual flirtation
And we pledged it was nothing and meant nothing and wouldn't become a thing
But the more we promised a vacuum
The more my mind became one
Filled with wild thoughts and wonders and dare I say hope?
Totally irrational and completely uncalled for
But I can't think straight anymore
You're ten shades of wrong for me
And I am the opposite of what you need
And yet I died a little inside when the smell of your cologne had faded from my house
It wasn't supposed to hurt
I wasn't supposed to feel anything for you
And now it's four in the morning and I can't sleep in my own bed
I'm laying on the futon you made up before you left
Because you have to leave everything in its place
And for some absurd reason
I feel like your place is here
So I sleep on a bed of metal rods and a beat up cushion
Because somehow it keeps you close by
I wasn't supposed to miss you
And God knows I shouldn't
It isn't as though our time together was some romantic, idyllic engagement of two hearts beating as one
It was an awkward dance of confusion delusion and happenstance
And I should be angry
But I'm really just hurt
It wasn't supposed to hurt
I wasn't supposed to hurt
I promised you there would be no hurt
And yet here I am
Laying on the futon you made up before you left
Because I can't bring myself to put it all away
Because I feel like I'd be putting you- us- away
And there wasn't even an us to begin with
But I can't seem to snap out of it
The pillow doesn't smell like you anymore,
But your ghost is still marching in military time around my kitchen
And if I'm angry at all it's at myself
If I could do it all again
I wouldn't have responded to your call
I wouldn't have had you here to begin with
I wouldn't have let you into my thoughts
I wouldn't be laying here on the futon you made up before you left
Wishing my phone would light up with a text
Full of apologies and wishful thinking and hints at what's to come next
It rained the whole time you were here
The weather now is cool and crisp and all I want is the rain to come back
Because the wind bites in no matter what I do
Laughing at me thinking of you and you and the thought of me and how stupid this whole thing is
It's all wrong and all gone and I'm all melancholy movies and songs
Because you got under my skin
And I'm under the blankets
On the futon you made up before you left
Lost in this world that doesn't have a place for me
But you've been deployed to stand sentry at my heart
And until you go on leave
I'm here.

- - - -

"Crazy/Cool"

When I was seven years old
I used to think it'd be kind of cool to be legit crazy
You'd get to live in this alternate universe
Where time and rhyme combined with the hope that binds the universe to create a concoction more intoxicating than anything Dad was sippin' on
So yeah. Pretty damn cool.
But after awhile came high school
With its cliques and style and rules of engagement you didn't dare defy
When the boys didn't care about how smart you were, but your cup size
And since mine were always big enough
Crazy fell to the wayside.
I was a choir-theater-speech-geek
But even in the land of the marginalized, there are rules by which you must abide
So... crazy? Not so cool.
In the land of collegiate debate
Logic and argument took the place of fashion plates
Everything else was just fluff, slowing you down on your double breathing way to another plastic trophy
Between the races to who could get to extinction first, or worse,
Well,
it was a different kind of crazy I guess, but not quite the same.
Now
Now that I'm in the real world and there's bills to be paid and work to be done...
Crazy kind of sounds like fun.
I want to burst into song in the middle of the streets
Steppin' up with a dance number to a jazzy song without a time signature
Because music like this is supposed to take you higher and higher and
I wanna get high
Stuff my pillows full of clouds, hang stars from my ceiling and make wishes until I drift into the land of nod
Where there's neither devil nor god- just giggles.
I want to love someone so deeply, so fiercely, that's absolutely completely wrong for me
But be so lost in the infatuation that my mind hangs a sign that says no common sense allowed
I want to cry and cry until my soul runs dry and the tears serve as antiseptic for a heart broken so long ago I don't even know where all the pieces are
I want to laugh and laugh until I cry tears I didn't know I had left until I'm whole and holy because
I want to be seven years old again
Living breathing joy
If that makes me crazy, so be it.
If it makes me a masochist- bring it on. I'll wear the crown proudly while you bow down
As long as I'm seven years old again
Living in an alternate universe where time and rhyme combine with the hope that binds the universe into a concoction more intoxicating than anything you could serve me
Yeah. Sounds pretty damn cool to me.

- - - -

"Dance Floor Interlude"

Is it too much to ask
That people mean what they say
And say what they mean
Without subtext in between, intentions unseen, and...
In other words
Can we just cut the bullshit?
It doesn't make sense- playing mind games for an end game of a double loss
Using bows of ego to draw across puppet strings, screeching out an off key symphony of he said she saids and
maybe it's just me
But I can't keep time.
And I'm tired of trying
My toes are already bruised from too many off beat tangos
I've retired from this graceless dance and, as a wise wallflower, the more I watch, the dizzier I get
Now, maybe this makes me a traitor to my ovaries
But I've always been a fan of full disclosure
You're hot,
you're not,
take a breath mint,
take it off,
take me home tonight,
let's just be friends,
be lovers, be more,
be done,
it's all in good fun, and you're not the one,
I didn't come,
Yes, yes, yes, yes!
No no no no no.
Get your shit together,
get lost, get lost in love with me,
get ready,
get real,
I feel, I feel...
I feel.
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
Not because it's fashionable, but because it's functional.
See, confusion leads to heart contusions, and as someone whose accessory of mangled ventricles had had its fair share of lumps over the years,
I'm not about to be someone else's sucker punch.
Honesty may hurt, but really- it's a paper cut. It'll heal.
These endless circle jerks, on the other hand, are like the std from hell
Once you've been burned, you learn, and the sado-masochistic itch to self-preserve and get what you deserve kicks in until you're passing around the rules of the game faster than the herp on prom night
This is the only time abstinence only education should be used.
So for god's sake
Say what you mean, and mean what you say
Don't let
Bullshit
Get in the way.

- - - -

"Horror Flick"

I watched a heart break tonight
I didn't do the breaking, and it wasn't mine
But I watched a heart break tonight

The first take was guttural
Rushed, frantic, panicked
Shards flying in every direction, so small you'd miss them if you'd blink
But the razor sharp edges served as a reminder of their presence
miniature daggers that cut you seven ways to Sunday and you never had a prayer of escaping their painful graze
It was the kind of pain that will stay with you and remind you of what love could do if you let it touch you
And the cries that escaped her fractured soul were enough to make the Virgin Mary weep fresh tears onto a nation of broken children, because that's all we really are when the ego's stripped away

The second take was in slow motion
Betrayal, like a poison, quietly set in through her skin, and as it traced the nerves in her flesh, she was alive with fire
A white hot burn, acid churning, turning her fragile spirit into a forced contortionist as it searched for forgiveness of sins not committed
And the ache reached out, wrapping its icy grip around my vocal cords and stealing away the words that never would have sufficed to begin with before sucking away the breath I had left and leaving me paralyzed while she cried

The last take was bloody
Because the knife he had stabbed was a fucking magic bullet
severing every major artery as she bled out hopes and dreams into a river of self-sacrifice that would never run dry and the tears carved gullies in which the stream could flow
The rapids carried me away as I watched her drowning
Swimming upstream is a losing battle, and I lost a part of her but I think she lost it all

As I mourned her passing, my own tears in memoriam, I said a silent prayer
That I would never watch another heart break
That I would live alone if it meant I'd be spared
That my daughter would never have to fear
That my tears could wash away the acidic venom soaking into the blood stream through wounds left by heart shards and heal her whole

Unfortunately
Salvation is reserved for those who believe without reservation and it took no hesitation to know my prayers were in vain.
I watched a heart break tonight.
And I will never be the same.

- - - -

"Andersen Brothers Rewrite"

I grew up loving fairy tales
Filled with damsels in distress who needed a knight in shining armor to come clean up the mess created by forces beyond their control
And low and behold
They rode on the white horse into a candy painted sunset and off to a happily ever after that I wanted to know
But as I grew older I realized that princes are few and far between
So my fantasies took to the silver screen and my expectations dropped a little
Because Tom may have had Renee at hello, but it took him two fucking hours to realize she completed him
Still
I spent many a night Sleepless in Seattle, waiting for my Harry to meet this Sally so I could Watch Him while he was sleeping, keeping a Notebook of every fluttering heartbeat, and one day, when I read him my Princess Diaries, he'd say, “Here's looking at you kid- you make me feel like the King of the World! I luuurrvve you.”
Sigh.​
Once the film stops rolling, I'm back in the real world
And what's a girl to do?
Because once again, expectations have to take a dip
After kissing so many frogs to no avail, I felt myself turning into Rapunzel's witch meets Daria, and, my stomach churning, decided something had to be done
So I decided I would write my own fairy tale
A love story to end all love stories
The perfect love, if you will
A love that accepts, but pushes for growth
That enjoys a caress, but enjoys cuddles most
That will cry with you without wiping away the tears because they have healing value beyond measure
That will laugh with you until you're so exhausted you feel your stomach might cave in
That will hear you out when you just need to bitch a little longer
That will hold your hand when those masochistic tendencies grow stronger
That will praise your brains, stand in awe of your beauty
That will adore your faults, bask in the glow of your high notes
That will be patient, kind and all that jazz
I've found my one
It's me.
I, from here on out, am in love with myself, and nobody else will hold that piece of my heart
It is a love affair to remember when the embers of the suitors past grow cold
It is a passion to hold on to when your lover strikes your soul
It is the anchor that keeps you grounded when new romance begins to unfold
And until death do we part
I will hold the key to my heart
and stand sentry to my own weak frame
So hit me with your best shot
Me and Pat got time to spare

Ain't no thang

It's a sense of peace
No need to impress, though I'll still dress
like I do
No expectations or presuppositions
It's all just one quiet ride down the lazy river
And I'm more than pleased with the pace of the flow
I'm sorry if this seems odd-
I won't deny that it is
but when you enter the room,
my old flutterfly friends spring to life
and I haven't felt that way in awhile.
Usually, the thought that there's not a symbiotic reaction
would quell the flight plan taking shape as you approach
But for the first time in a long time
I guess I'm not too concerned
Perhaps the fact that there's no chance of it advancing
Creates a sense of satisfaction with the brush of an arm
I'm more than aware that you and I are just friends
Which is why these illicit flutterflies are all the more enjoyable
At least I'm kind of admitting it now

Champagne Lemonade

I had forgotten the taste of sunshine
It's like champagne lemonade dancing on tastebuds
Bringing me to a whole new place
Showering me the crystalline nature of laughter
And the brush of fingertips as the flutter across my hand
And a smile beaming through the morning mist of confusion
And the glisten off of the ripples in a mirthful set of eyes
And for a minute
I just forget the overcast skies I've been staring into
And the rain that's been pelting my window
Though when my eyes open, I know they will be back,
I soak in the taste of sunshine
For
just
one
more
moment.

Not as anonymous

I feel drunk.
Not that I am,
at least, I hope I'm not, but
I feel drunk.
I'm a klutz, traditionally,
but my words have always been my saving grace
slicing through uncertainty
and painting masterpieces of understanding, and now
I feel drunk.
See, when I drink, my words grow dull,
and my verbal work looks like fingerpainting,
muddying any prior understanding and adding to the mess,
and now
I feel drunk.
Because these days,
it seems like every time I open my mouth,
I may be sober as a stone,
but it's whiskey talking.
I don't even drink dark liquor,
but it's whiskey talking.
See, I don't know what I want,
let alone what I need,
And my mouth just keeps running,
Trying to prove it's not drunk at 10 in the morning,
and the sloppy masonry of this defensive wall
indicts its every failure to reassure.
It's not that I need, or want, anyone right now
but it's what I'm supposed to want.
So I slur out a sad excuse for hope
and though I swear to drunk I'm not god
I'm drowning in the inebriation of doubt.
It's not about decisions or predictions or predicaments
It's about me.
I've been weaving verbal tapestries for so long
I don't know how to put the loom down to appreciate
a thread of truth.
So I feel drunk,
And as I double check that the proper punctuation is present
in these beer goggle ramblings,
I know I need 12 steps back to me.

Pen to paper

I feel like I should write
Pen to paper I pause
Waiting for a stream of emotion, flowing in articulate springs,
skipping over pebbles of metaphor and alliteration,
humming along to the tune of truth
but

nothing.

I shake my pen, assuming default, and bend forward again.
I wait for the surge of light to burst forth
sparkling in its pain and intensity
blinding in its raw and honest nature
shining a path for poets to come
but

nothing.

I pull another sheet of paper, thinking a new texture would accommodate.
Hovering over the clean palette
I hold my breath in anticipation for a kaleidoscope
A vortex of color dancing the merengue
To the beat, beat, beat of a broken heart
Tripping over one another in the faltering rhythm,
The result a medley of confusion
but

nothing.

I call on the power of gods that may or may not exist
praying that they might remove the burgeoning mass of madness
protruding from my common sense
A cancer of logic feeding on hope and a Lockean perspective
I put my face to the paper- maybe by osmosis?-
but

nothing.

One tear trickles down my cheek
The first to bear witness to this trainwreck
It's salty essence tracing a path down my face
Almost as twisted as the one that brought me here
And it hits the paper

The saddest part of all is that tear
that single solitary tear
writes the novel of us
It is succinct with the depth I wished you had to begin with.
And it's, I'm, done.