To cope, I used to dream
I fantasized of made amends
But a dream deferred is as good as dead
And the seed grows old and red

Whe you give a little, and lose a lot
You lose everything you keep inside
Concrete cars, and boarded boxes
Everything you tried to hide

The time does not return to me,
Though sometimes we return to time

A mark,
A spark,
A time,
A bind,
The chances slip by
Though I have much need.

The cushion of routine sets in,
This light is slowly growing dim

I must survive
Sink
or
Swim.

instead your heart carries
questions, and questions
up to sky, to the prairies

mouthing words
why? why?
even as you lay
to die

God, where are you?
where’s your touch
i never really asked for much

once growing, now growing weak
as the body turns on itself
life becomes a hell

why do I go like this?
slapped in the face
when asked for God’s kiss

mouthing words
why? why?
even as you lay
to die

God, where are you?
where’s your touch
i never really asked for much

sweet ocean. or salty?

the ebbing and flowing tide, the constant but unpredictable nature. you never fall behind. i am always standing at the shoreline, gazing out into the sea. sometimes i go in, the water up to my knees.

is it fear? is it apathy?

that keeps me here.

keeps me near the shore.

i will never drown, but i will never swim.

is there still happiness within this frame?

as the waves erase the names.

Dearest J,

Sometimes I realize the strangest things.

I think I’ve retreated, built up walls… like the Ninja Turtles when their head disappears in their shell after they’ve seen April changing. Sorry… but seriously, I find myself treading cautiously, reattaching the layers around my heart, hiding behind humor or forced apathy.

It’s a defense mechanism, or maybe it’s a realization–a realization that the smallest things can start the biggest messes. Now I know that sometimes riding the line just causes more trouble than it’s worth. Or maybe I am just scared, frightened, and trying to protect myself by grasping for some semblance of control over my relationships.

I think it’s because I’ve been hurt. In the past I was pretty good at moving on, and not letting my past ruin anyone else’ future. But I suppose I had never been crushed as bad as I had been a few months ago, and now I don’t want any similar situation at all. Or maybe I’ve just gained some insight, about playing with fire.

Anyway, I’m glad I can trust you regardless.

I raise a glass, to you, to the sweet taste from the chalice
to the bourbon from the soul
to letting go
to holding on
to blindly progressing

progress, what’s your secret?
whatever it may be
don’t keep it from me

To the lost–to my sorrow, to my past.
I regret only trusting you so
for believing in one so multifaceted as you.

I seem to think of you
if only in an effort
to hate the pain away
to push you from all memory

strange, when words we never thought we’d say
creep from our lips
and every passing day
our lips grow looser

did i choose this?

my lost–my lost friend, my lost hope
my lost love

strange, words that somewhere–i knew i’d say.

when love is not instinctual, it has lost its way.

I hope to start this correspondence with you, for at the very least, to have someone to dialogue with in some form of accountability, and at the very most, to open up a part of both of us that has before since been unseen.

I’ve been struggling to be inspired lately.

Or I don’t want to write about what’s on my mind, and so then I’m left with two options: Expend two or three times as much energy to find something else to pen, or to avoid creating all together.

As much as it pains me to say it, the bruises on my heart still remain, and I wait for them to heal, but it’s seemed to come to a pause. A lonely, silent, pause.

But everything else in life keeps going, beckoning me to keep moving forward, into the bright future.

Or perhaps, more appropriately, the future that can be bright, if I make it so.

I’ve been getting by on willpower for some time now, i think it’s left me with a general feeling of emotional fatigue. Is it possible… that I can’t fully pick myself up by myself?

Or maybe the solution is much, much more simple…

Sincerely yours,