Your Lilted Smile Put The Tilt In My World I Thank You For The Seasons

Now I am furious with you, You, Who called me your everything, Your soulmate, your most Important person while you Slept in another's bed. You, Who whispered so seductively, Playing your hand of greed, Bluffing with clubs When I Thought you held hearts. You, Who made me feel stupid for Hanging on your words, As if you were used to Your vapid lovers begging. You, You are the one who is so vain And so selfish to tell me What you don't like of my body, To make me feel undesirable. You, Who are not above anyone, Yet chose to make me look small And cut off my air Because you were done breathing. You, Who mistook me for a fool Because I acted like one, Because I fell for your words When they were a trap. You, You will get nothing from me, Not my anger, not my ear, Not a chance of redemption, I will not hold our memories. You, You will feel my wrath in The form of my absence, My cold silence. Now that I Found the voice, You had stolen from me Along with my self respect. Now I am furious with you, Boiling with rage, It is I, I who am the beautiful one I who am desired, I who am lovely, I who am worthy, I who am stronger than you, I who am making this choice. Now that I am furious with you, The spitting of venom cathartic, I am finished. I abandon you. I abandon us before I Become just as heartless.

What is the usefulness Of regret? When the days and months Move ever forward And moments passed Are like photos, Some were not taken As well as others

There is a Transcendence in The letting go The long farewell to Yesterday's bowed head Presently washed clean, Hung out to dry In the ever persistent Cleansing of sun

Why wish for any decision To have gone another way? Would the lines On palms, in diaries Have brought us here If we made a choice With our head Not our heart Or simply on impulse?

An artist can insert light into the world Reach into their own acid stomach Pulling out their intestines Shining, glowing, posing as hope Let me make it so Let me take my own guts in my hands Twist them and turn them Into a blue and red balloon animal Give it to our tired country The rotten thing does not fester Inside me today. Can I do it? I want to take pieces of myself That have atrophied and heal them Turn them into something resembling art

Where was I when My mind was clear of thought? In gloom In gloom Yet out of shadow I bloom

No sweeter than A maple candy Were the scent of rising Fresh spring flowers Happily dancing in the showers

Like them I return From a dark and empty slumber Refreshed Refreshed I am waking from my rest

A lyric in a song speaks To me, it lights my mind Clicking my pen And I will think of those words Just two, or a phrase Mulling them over Ruminating on an element The same one I always think of The idea of water Again I'll think of the ocean Or of beaches, of swimmers, Just the word "dive"

And I won't end up writing About diving at all Not about hearts in the sea Nothing at all nautical But the word "dive" It just sounds so nice Saying it aloud so softly Rolling a wave in my mouth And then silently I'll retract the pen Put my headphones back on Thinking, thinking, zoning

Instead I will write about Writing, or a process About listening to music Thinking about words that I don't put down, about Images of swimmers with tanks Reaching the ocean floor To find a lover's guarded Buried treasure, but I won't write about that I'll keep it locked up Safe in my mind forever Unsaid, unwritten, remembered

I'm Unable To say what I mean because The words are all Lodged in my throat But whoa! So suddenly They're spilling out wildly In a long, incoherent ramble

Driving through the hills A little after dinner time I speed in the right lane.

"Don't worry," I sound very reassuring, "I know where I'm going."

I need my glasses And I can't admit to him That actually I can't see And I"m a little lost.

He needs some reassurance Which I hand out like mints, Maybe if I sugar coat it He won't know it's a little harsh, A bit too fresh, with a bite.

It's too cold for rain, Too warm for snow So we don't know what's coming down.

But we are. I'm having a panic attack While laughing at his story.

I wan't to turn around, I've missed the exit. "Trust me," I say "It's okay."

So he does But he shouldn't.

I swam with Fish from Other seas Other creatures From fresh And salty waters Knowing In the depths Of my heart

That All I really Wanted was To settle In a quiet Backyard pond With you

The snow is old and dirty, Full of sand and gravel, Making the once pure white blanket A sight more saddening than before.

Trees that once flourished in the Summer breeze, warm air blowing Through the leaves filled with little Holes from snacking insects.

I look upon them now, Nearing the end of a harsh And dark winter that grabbed me By arm and dragged me down.

And I think to myself how I have the excuse or the right To complain, that it's my Prerogative to sink into the sorrow.

Yet she (that is to say my love) Knows better than to sing the song Sung a thousand times before, "These are my burdens."

To be a rose in the garden of her mind, Would I be watered and cared for? What more can a rose do But remain still, hoping to be beautiful?

I think of how she's never seen the snow, Seen it fall so elegantly, so peacefully, All the while freezing the earth And suffocating the grass under the weight of it.

And so as the seasons change Mother Nature warms the world, Thirstily soaking in the melting Of the ever changing landscape.

The dandelions that sprout in the Spring Aren't gathered up and handed out, Not asking to look pretty Yet still they are and always will be.

Maybe I could be the morning dew On an uncut and untamed lawn. I could sleep there for the night And wake renewed at dawn.

So rather than growing in her thoughts, Perhaps the real treasure would be Spending the winter bundled up In blankets together, not waiting for anything.

And when the sun is out and Shining in our eyes, we would embrace The day's warmth coming through the windows Of our tiny house in the woods.

I am always drawn to water It is not my sign But I am in love with Cancer Her fluid emotions And I feel her in the Unfurling of waves

I swim in her like A brush mixing paint Like cream poured in coffee Or ink dripped on a page I am flowing Completely immersed in her

She takes me to an island Under her planet moon Soaking in the night Fierce as Diana She will rise up and Snatch me down into the sea