Infliction

At the time, I was nervous

for living,

when no one else

 

wanted to talk with my mind.

You have no free time

to sacrifice, nor do I.

 

All our time is filled up

with taking others for granted.

Yet we talk on the phone

every couple of years,

and become friends

 

over preferred lovers.

When  we were lovers,

we loved each other,

we lamented our skin

 

As old lovers do.

It never gets old. Your skin is my map

home.

Time makes clouds

of us all.

 

I have no hard feelings

over deleting you

It is merely a word. Define it.

Gone, evaporated. Hack me!

 

The moments are in hearts

reliving the kisses

and the touching

 

every spare day

I spent it all. Poor again

loveless;

Childless.

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The Fire of my Storm

Inside my chest

is a raging child

she buckles up her seat belt

and waits for the accident

it is coming

it always does.
I remember her at six

how the piano freed her soul

and anger burned her wings

in burial grounds

where her mother met her fate.

This storm inside her at sixteen

tore apart all her friendships

these addictions to people

taught her about toxicity.

Now at thirty-four

she sleeps alone

and waits for the shores

of her youth to be

taken by the roads she missed.

She is a calm wave

waiting for her destiny

and lightening.