holding mountains at eye level witnessing wounds of war I swore I’d never see again I smile—it’s been a while since I’ve felt this sting the stampede of strangers storming my peace but i have learned to release to trust to hush the voices that demand so much more than I am willing to give …
i do not know you or where or how to begin all i know is that you hurt her and she hurt me she still hurts me i want to hate you but i am from you so i wait here at the edge of terror’s torment tending to wounds i do not yet understand …
for lulu: i wrote this poem when you were dying (my hair) tonight. part of me wanted to thank you but i chastised you instead. eyes closed, i retreated to that prickly place in my head: 5 years old 11 and a half 17 sometimes i wish we’d have had the chance back then to …
the want is always in the weave. tight. torn. tainted by the way we ravage. torment is only for those who teeter on the edge of pleasure’s precision. dare to dip your dreams into the danger that divides us. and be ready. to risk it all for your truth. there is no grey where love …