Numb.

There is a current that I’m stuck in. It goes around and around and the water is warm. I am warm. I am numb.

I’m let myself get pulled and spit out in the same places. I get dragged and drowned in the same spaces. 

Sirens don’t need to breath so being stuck in the currents is fitting for me. Drifting in the weeds doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s warm. I am warm. 

Sailors reach out and I ignore their hands. Sirens don’t need your ships and I don’t want to be pulled to land.

Somehow I’ve let the numbness wriggle into my skin. It’s settled down and began breeding from within.

It doesn’t phase me to stay under water anymore. Currents keep me moving and the undertow doesn’t want me to reach the shore.

 I am numb. I am warm. I think I’m supposed to feel something more.

Almost always.

In case you have forgotten because the world has been shaking lately, I love you.

When I leave it’s because I love me, too.

Because I will always leave. Too many boys are happy on the ground. Content to be sedentary with sameness all around. 

But you, you will be the hardest to leave. You are almost everything to me. You say you’ll come with me but we both know they are empty words. You don’t know what you want so we’ll just settle for the hurt.

In case there is a shadow lurking in your head about me because we are always walking on jagged cracks, I love you more than most things and I will almost always want you back.

But I always leave because the restless compass inside of me. I will always get over everyone but you.  I will almost always want to come back to you.

I leave because I love me more than you. Because I know that you will always be here and exploring is all I know to do.

I will always be madly in love with you. I almost always come back, too.

My world.

If this little girl only knew. If she knew I couldn’t look at her picture without losing my mind. If those knobby knees knew I died a little bit every time I wasn’t in her knobby little life. 

Her missing front teeth and her messy hair don’t know I’m counting down days until I can squeeze her and let her know I will always be there. 

There is a little mermaid who doesn’t know my heart aches when I can’t be around. A little fish who doesn’t know I hate that my feet are hundreds of miles away on dry ground.

There is a little girl who is my whole world while earthquakes threaten my stars to shake. I will hold up the shards of this sky over here forever until I can get out from under them and be nearer. 

There is a little mermaid who is one of my own. I know it’s not something she’s known. There is a little girl who I am planning my whole entire life around. She is my world. 

Monsters.

You probably don’t think I’ll remember when you said, “don’t worry, I’m here.” You probably won’t remember when you whispered it to me and pulled me near. 

Fast asleep yet you still protect me. You pull me close and the monsters retreat. Limbs intertwined like a tangle of trees. I heard you say it softly and it sparked something in me. 

Fast asleep and the monsters are too afraid to creep. You wrapped around me means they must stay in the shadowy deep. 

You keep composed when the daylight shows. Fast asleep you don’t think I’ll know. I know you are here and with you, darling, I know that monsters are not something I need to fear. 

Giant.

There is a sleeping giant in my bed. Kind and calmer than any current in my head. 

His eyes reflect the sea when they look at me. Green and wild, crazed and free.

A small mountain breathes deeply like he is the shore. Keeps me tangled in his boughs. Each time we stray we always come back for more. 

I’m sure he’s the sands the moon keeps pulling me to. I’m sure I’m the waves who crash into you. 

I’m sure this sleeping giant in my bed is the curse and the cure for the hurricanes raging inside my head. 

Fake.

I know you let the lonely seep in. She and I know you never loved her but it’s fun to pretend. 

I know you fell apart and are trying to get back again.  I hope you find out who you are and stop faking like you’ll win. 

She knows she is a back burner simmering in the summer heat.  You’ve always treated women like objects…like things you need.  Things to fight the lonely and to hide the holes.  I know you’re a mess,  I don’t need to be told.  

I miss the the days when I blindly thought I made you whole.  When I thought I made you happy. I don’t think it’s something we’ll ever know. 

You spend too many days fending of dragons in your sleep. You don’t think I’m aware the company you keep. 

Flimsy armor will never be enough for me. I wish you could see the fake you turned out to be. 

Cry Wolf.

There is sway in fire. Back and forth. Flicker and flit. Rise and low.

You are the sway to my heart. Up and down. Tug and pull. Swing and jump.

The smoke builds up and chokes and drowns. Ashes fill up and flame burns it down. You fill me up and you burn me down. Pieces of me lay charred on the ground.

Hangings of pictures cover the melting walls. They get us through when there is no hope at all. When the phone line is cut and we cried too much “wolf,” help isn’t coming and down comes the roof. 

It’s a pretty dance to watch shadows climb high while we flicker and kiss and make love ’till we die. It’s a hypnosis that calls, moans and chants, we ignore fire growing for just one more dangerous dance.

There is a sway in fire. Back and forth. Lean and sway. We fuel each other rather perfectly, burn up and then down, while “wolf” is what we play. 

Lessons.

The Man in the Moon taught her that there are scarier places than the dark. He taught her to live freely and wildly and never to stay too long. 

He taught her to wax and to wane was not a sin; that she could change her phase as much as she needed without feeling shame. 

New Moon she became invisible, hid her light and tried to gain solace from the indigo skies.

She’s a cresent now, trying to peek out and realizing she needn’t bathe in starry lies.

The Man in the Moon taught her to raise and to glow. That you can love the Sun and not be a monster for having to go. 

That its okay to leave when you are being burned. It’s okay to ache when the sky gets cold. It’s okay to change and move, is what she has learned. 

To miss the sun and finally know you cannot be an “us”… to stay would send the world into chaos. 

To be like the Moon and leave your lover to the day…well, it’s earth shattering but the Moon has taught me that it’s not the end of the sky if I don’t stay.

Flowers.

She planted seeds all around.

Wishful whispers deep in the ground. 

Hopeful breaths that took the form of a violet. A forget-me-not. A sunflower. That took the form she was afraid the darkness would devour.

Darkness has a funny way of getting in. Pulling curtains. Closing doors. Staying too attached to him. 

She leaves the good bits scattered along the ground. Waters them and sings to them. Plants the light in corners all around.

Blow out cobwebs that grow more quickly than her flowers do. Sweep off dust that gathers thicker each time she plants anew. Keeps on weeding while searching for the blue. 

Planting light inside the dark she hopes it will soon overgrow her shadowed heart. 

Plant the seed and coax the growth. She tries to live where the flowers go.