Honesty: To J.(C.)W.M.

Pulling my heart out on piano wire, playing out the chords that will never come. I've lost no love nor ire, just playing out my sorrow on the piano wire.

Its easy to miss you when I think I never have. Its easy to believe you were wonderful when I don't think about all you've done. This is all to say you were never the one I should've trusted, never the one I should've loved.

You exist now, simply to torment me, a rabid ghost that refuses to fade into that sweet good night. So I will sit here, writing you useless words full of useless meaning because you will never understand me and you never really knew me.

Pulling my heart out, drawing it down the spiral staircase of my ribs and down into the pit of my stomach. If I were a man, I would eat your heart to replace the one you stole, so cruelly, from me.

You weren't really who I thought you were. You were not kind, nor loving, nor caring, nor anything I would normally associate with what you were supposed to be. You were selfish and cold, rude and hateful. You were a cancerous being trapping me in the prison of my skin, cringing behind the bar of my skull.

I'm too tired to fight you any longer. Too tired to continue raging against your machinations. Too tired to wake into your reality. I know I need to let this go, stop letting you kill me with your words. The abuses, the pain, the heartbreak, the loss, I need to let it go.

Grant me this last courtesy, let me be.

Dear Mr. President,

August 01st, 2012

Dear Mr. President,

It's a funny (as in weird) time right now, don't you think? All this insanity with your upcoming election (I am confident in your abilities as you can see) and the world is all a stage (as Shakespeare once said) set with chessmen. In the end it's kind of like that, a political checkmate with more than a chessboard at stake. Of course chess players don't usually play for keeps.

Mr. President, I am going to be honest, I'm not sure why I am writing you. My previous letter (before I was married I sent you a glittery Paris themed card) had a point. I wanted to tell you how much I supported you. I still support you (and not just because you were the first president I got to vote for). But this wasn't really going to be about that.

We're moving, not just as a country. Moving towards something ill-defined and frightening. I'm afraid, sir. Afraid that we're moving not for the better. We (the collective "we") have grown so lazy, prejudiced, paranoid and irrational. I feel like I'm trapped in the collective body of a rabid dog. I resist, but get pulled in again. It seems insane because it is.

Frankly, Mr. President, I could care less about your religious beliefs. The constitution (last I checked) said nothing about religion. I care that you have morals; compassion, honesty, etc. I don't care if you were born overseas or not (not that I believe you were, but I hear this ALL the time at work) because you were born to American citizens so it wouldn't matter anyway.

What I care about is you visiting the Colorado victims. I care about you paying the same amount of taxes I do. I care about you donating your Nobel Peace prize money. I care about you fighting for equal pay for equal work.

I care about you standing up for GLBTQ rights. I care about those things, Mr. President. I don't care if you worship Buddha or Krishna or Zeus for that matter. I do care if you use your power for good rather than "evil." Be Luke not Vader (well at the beginning Vader, you can be Vader overthrowing the Emperor. Huh, the Emperor could be Romney or big business and you could be Vader throwing them over the railing... Somehow I don't think I'll be getting a job creating your ads any time soon).

I'm sorry I ramble so, Mr. President.

I'm sorry I don't have more money. I want to donate. I want to have a chance to have dinner with you. I want to be more than one voice, but it's very hard being an adult, don't you agree?

I want so many things! I want my freedom. I want my health. I want my liberty and to pursue my happiness. I want to be a part of this so-called "Great Nation."

In truth, I just want to be happy. I want more than what I've been told I should want.

I hope I haven't bored you to tears, sir. I hope you and yours are doing well. I hope you continue the good fight, even if letters from supporters stop coming. Even if it looks bleak. There are people, like me, who can't afford Mr. Romney, sir. Especially those who think he is a good option.

Please beat him. Please continue to be the kind and wonderful human being you are. And please say a prayer (if you believe in that, I don't really anymore) for me.

In all sincerity and with great respect,
Sarai Smith
(formerly, Sarai Lillie)

Winter of My Discontent

As winter breaks upon our sunny hearts,
stripping bare the buds of love produced in May,
We sit, facing one another, but turned away.

Your eyes glazed by pain emotions have wrought,
I, your heart having desperately sought,
waste away and languish in the tepid waters of untruth.

With unkindness and trepidation have two hearts collapsed,
Two hearts once so completely knit as one,
alas, the stitches have unraveled, tragically undone.

So, what is the answer to love lost on a billowy sea?
Captive to a heart that ceased to beat, refused to be,
I will die with you, content to leave ego and self behind.

Chaos Rising

  You pour burning flowers down my throat,
Cast another lily on the fire. O that I had
Spoken sooner, caught your tongue like
A cat.
  I had no idea that you would call, or that
Fire could be so cold. I hate that about you
Every flower you put on doesn't burn, only
Freezes my heart.
  Do you know a riddle? Hit the nail on the
Head, carry the old woman to bed. Break
Me down, build me up, put another rose
On the fire.
  Burn me down, burn me up. Kiss me with
Kisses that sear, lips that chill me to the bone.
Haunt my soul with those burnt flowers, let the
Ghosts of all that has passed, touch me.
  I am not afraid of death, only of life that
Is so very unfair. Come, teach me Plato,
Teach me Shakespeare. Show me words
That can express the soul.
  Define God to me, even though He cannot
Be defined. Define love in words that don't
Exist. Burn another flower on the cross
That you love, then cast me on as well.
  Collapsed and broken, like the flowers you
Have burned. Am I bruised? Am I burnt up?
Do you still see me? Or have I faded like
Those unfortunate orchids?
  Love me or hate me, kiss me or hit me. Don’t
Let’s stand here in this putrid silence. White
And black photos scattered on the floor,
Those photos burn as well.
  So let’s forget this whole matter, burn the
Flowers and pour them on my coffin. Let
Them bury me in the sea of simplicity. I
Care not for anything here.
  So cast the marigold on the fire, let the
Beautiful flames fly up and let them cause
Everything else to fade away. I will remain
Hidden and open, buried by a flowery flame.