Tired.

I sit in that chair,
in that room,
across from yours.
The table on the left
holds a clock
and a box of tissues.

Sometimes there are tears -
sometimes not -
but I always want to sleep after we talk.

It's draining, carrying on like this;
fighting the dread every morning,
fearing that everything will go wrong
         I'll get hurt.
                 I'll hurt someone.
I'll lose my friends.

But the sun comes up
and life moves on.
Class
work
life
keeps moving forward.

Life keeps me busy
and distracts me from the weight on my chest.
The ghosts of the past at my back
as I take that next step forward.

Work To Do

My soul cries.
I can't do anything but sit here and work in the hopes that I don't think too much, that I don't feel. If I feel right now, I'll never finish these finals. God, but I feel like something should change. I bright light just went out of this world and nothing changes. Finals are still due. Life keeps moving on. And there's nothing I can do. No amount of wishing or willing or praying or screaming will change what happened. She's gone. She's not coming back. Damn it. I saw her only a few weeks ago! She was fine!
Now she's gone.
There's no coming back, no see you next time. There is no fucking next time.
Nothing will fix it. Nothing with change it. The tears, the hate, the rage - nothing can change it. I can't even imagine what the driver is feeling right now. One stupid choice and they took a life. I'm angry about it, but my rage will do nothing. They have to live with this for the rest of their life. That's the reality they face. Why add my anger, my hate to that? Maybe it's cold. Maybe it's wrong of me to leave it like that. They'll condem themselves, feel the remorse, face their actions and their consequences. Anything they do to themselves would be worse than anything I could dish out.
Why add to their suffering? Why make it worse? It won't bring her back, won't change the loss or heal the wounds. Is there not enough suffering here as it is? Don't we all hurt enough?
I don't understand why this happens. Why God takes the best of us far too soon. A friend described him as a selfish bastard. Right now, I'm inclined to agree. I know, all is on His time, His will. But this is stupid. She was, what, 25? She had her whole life ahead of her! She touched so many lives, so many people; why cut that short? Why steal her away now, when she could do so much good? I don't get it. I won't ever get it. And it angers me beyond words. Confuses me.

I'm back to being numb. Anger always leads to despair, and that can't happen. I've got work to do.

Goodbyes That Come Too Soon

I saw you at the end of October. You were dressed as a Viking for Halloween, full of smiles and energy as always.
I don't think I even gave you a proper hello.
Now you're gone. I didn't know you well, but your presence was infectious - even to those of us who only ever spoke to you in passing. You were sweet, amazing, bloody fantastic. Everyone I spoke to had nothing but good things to say.
Tragedy strikes again, that cliche son of a bitch. God took you too soon from us. We're left reeling the wake of your absence, cold claws raking fresh wounds in too-raw hearts.
Disbelief is all that remains.
Grief.
A pounding headache in the wake of the tears that just won't stop.

Rest In Peace Kelley.
We love you.
We miss you.

Platonic

A night by your side
no strings attached.
No expectations.
No labels.
Just a warm body at my back,
your arm around my waist
and all is right with the world.

This is why we make better friends
than partners,
right?

I Love You

I love you but you're unavailable
I love you but you're blind.
I love you and you know it.
I love you but you've chosen not to care.
I love you but I'm emotionally fucked.
I love the fact that you're emotionally fucked too.
I love you but I love him too.
I love you but you avoid me
         like a dog avoiding a bath.
I love the way you pretend I'm invisible.
I love the way you move.
I love you because you hate me.
I love you because you love her.
I love how your voice drops an octave after you dance with me.
I love the press of your body against mine,
         our hands intertwined as we move.
I love to hate the way my stomach flips when you're around.
I love to hate how you make me feel.
I love how we're best friends.
I love how I can tell you anything
         no strings attached.
I love you but I can't be with you.
I love that you love me too.
I love you but you won't commit.
I love this deadlock we're in.

Sighs and Half Remembered Dreams

Sighs and half remembered dreams
color the hours,
filling the space between awake and asleep:

The ghost of his arms,
pressure about my middle -
wrapped so tight -
the heat of another
burning at my back.
The imaginings of what was
linger in my shut eyes.
Breaths falter with the rising tide,
water staining the sheets
as the space is filled by
my opened eyes.

Tension

Tight shoulders,

Short breath

Fanning across our faces.

Fingers on my spine.

Fingers in your hair.

Eye to eye,

Chest to chest.

You inhale:

I exhale –

We step apart.

Silence.

Words Never Spoken

Around us the baseline pulses,

Stringy guitars and the patter of drums.

Husky vocals whisper in the empty space

Filling the void with words.

Dance is, after all, no more than words,

Than sounds filling an empty space;

Whispered voices overlaced with

Music.

Feet shuffle

In a pattern if you’d like –

A different kind of language.

Of the body, not the voice.

Barriers dropped and conversations had,

Words spoken while lips don’t move.

Chest to chest

Hand in hand

Swaying

            Pulsing

                        Enraptured.

For is dance not a conversation?

Words without words?

A connection of two beings,

            A getting to know you

Even though we’ve never met.

The guitar wails on in its thrilling lament

Blue swirling betwixt our toes,

Around our shoes.

Dancers shuffle with eyes closed and minds

Far from the words whispered softly

And never spoken.

Of Betrayal - A Villanelle

Look me in the face,

Tell me the truth.

Don’t hide your sins in this sick race.

Though your heart is muddled as you pace –

The dreams and what-ifs are proof –

Look me in the face.

You’ve led me on this chase,

This farce, enamored spoof:

Don’t hide your sins in this sick race.

I should have sprayed you with mace;

Taken my shattered pieces and left you, face the truth.

Look me in the face.

I said no to your advances, tried to be safe

As you pushed the issue and made me guilty, made me deny what was there in truth –

Don’t hide your sins in this sick race.

I loved you once, for the friendship on which all was based,

But you – he who I trusted most, knew me best, best friend –

Look me in the face.

Don’t hide your sins in this sick race.

I Should've Known Better

I should've known better
than to look at those pictures.
I should've known better
than to look back through those letters.
I should've known better
than to reminisce on what was.
I should've known better.
I should've known better.

Thinking of You

and the way your hand feels in mine,
the beat of your heart,
the heat of your breath at my ear.

Thinking of you...
the pulse of the baseline as we move -
one unit -
in tandem.

The guitar wails a lament,
husky voices telling a story of the blues,
as the quiet shuffle of feet and
whispered voices
fill the empty space.
Drums patter out a staccato,
our bodies moving in unison,
my chest pressed to yours.

Our connection is an embrace,
home,
something I can always trust to be safe,
good,
comfortable.
Trust comes like second nature -
our closed eyes,
your cheek pressed to my hair,
arm about my waist -
something others only try at,
can only mock with their efforts.

Your body whispers to mine;
a quick foot shuffle and
twist.
A dip.
The guitar patters out:
as the last note lingers
I open my eyes
and smile
at you.