If you love me

If you love me
it is the same as loving fire.

At some point
you will be
burned.

Not because I want to burn you,
   but that is the nature of fire;
to burn.

I can be calm,
unassuming,
like the flicker of a campfire
or
a candle's flame.

But there will be times
where I rage;
  out of control,
  full of anguish,
  of wrath.

It is in my nature
  to burn quietly
or
  rage out of control.

Would you ask the ocean to
stop kissing the shore?
Would you ask the winds to
never whip the trees?

As romantic as it may seem to be in love
with the flame,
you must know,
that someday it will burn you.

Some day it is going to sweep through,
destroying everything in its wake.

And I will try to hold it back.
I will try to never let you see,
but there is a trail of
ashes.

And I am what I am.

Safety.

Her son won't come home.
His new home is decorated with headstones.
He wears maggots as one would evening wear.
He no longer sings.
He no longer laughs.
He longer breathes.
He can't breathe.

Her son won't be coming home.
What should've promised safety,
should've protected him,
murdered him for holding a toy,
a sandwich, his hands in the air.
He doesn't play anymore.

They murder our fathers
and condemn us for our fatherless lives.
They murder our husbands
and mock our single parenting skills.
We can't run for fear of accusations,
justifications, "precautions."

Her son won't be coming home anymore.
Another Emmett Till for a different era.
Another Michael Brown.
Another Tamir Rice.
Another Eric Garner.

We Can't Breathe.

Words

   hurt     wasting    hate     breathless
   heart    time       kiss     screaming
   pain     wishing    embrace  dreamed
   longing  stars      crying   lost
waiting   friend   resolve    alone
hoping    love     never      forgotten.

Would you want me to?

I won't cry.
I keep saying I'll stop.
Maybe I scare you.
Maybe I'm too much.

I blame myself.
Its always my fault...
when I am left.
How foolish to think you'd be different.

They all leave in the end.
Its inevitable.
And I'm always the dust,
settling into the cracks.

I'm different. I admit that.
Was my difference the final
nail?
I won't apologize for that.

I can't help that I love
too passionately. That I'm
crazy. That I long for stars
too far from the earth of my body.

Was it my love that sent
you running? Was it the Cheshire
Cat of my personality?
I can't apologize for who I am.

Would you want me to?

The Things We Claim

Flowers in your beard,
your arms around me,
the way you looked when
you fucked me...

Those are the memories I own.

The taste of your smile,
like a slice of the sun,
dimpled perfection...

Those are the things I miss most.

Tears and burnt love letters,
the snarl of your anger,
spitting venom...

Those are the things I remember.

New York

Standing on the subway train,
wondering what your name could be.
Looking out at the darkness,
barreling through time and space,
daydreaming sunshine into the moonlight.

Is it David? Jon? Sebastian?
I'm trying to guess from your features;
eyes the color of a root beer float,
lips like Cupid's bow and a darting
tongue like an arrow through my heart.

In my mind I imagine the curl of your
lips tasting mine. You taste like the
color of your eyes and I get high off
your sugared breath. Could you imagine
my arms circling your neck like a necklace?

Is it James? Perry? Geoff?
The train is pulling into the station, you
stand to go and you push the ribbons
of your hair out of your eyes. You step
out into the world and the only name you have...

Is it New York?

Prometheus

You thought yourself Prometheus;
stealing fire from the gods to warm
the world.
In the end, you turned my bones to
firewood and warmed only you.