What Fools We are in Love

What fools we are in love
                Take ten thousand stallions
                       To run through thoughts of us
                                 I feel your hands inside my throat
                                                              You see my eyes
                                                                           Begging myself
                                                                                       To let me go
                                                                 You stand there like a fool
                                                          You watch me watch you
                                              You make gestures as if to leave
                                      What fools when we can't see
                             This painted glass will shatter
To form the knife I dig in with, much too deep

Did you know?

Have you seen me walk outside your condo?
Have you seen me fight with him?
Did you hear that same dog bark at night, barking insistently without attention from its owners?
We called that same dog into the human society as a noise complaint at least once or twice.
You're welcome.
Have you seen me jogging, only when too stressed to make it in to a proper gym?
There were only a few occasions.
Once or twice I can remember for sure.
Once for the birth of his first child.
The second when about to loose a job
Did you see me clutch my stomach in sudden side cramps because I pushed myself too hard?
Suck in air, somehow scolding cold, into my lungs, like knives down my throat, while I held back tears, let go tears, brushed away tears,
Pulled on my jogging gear in frustration and ran on?
Did you see me walk a million times past your place to get a loaf of bread, some ramen, some pizza, something to make it through the night without stirring in my apartment to ruminate over how much we were falling apart, falling away, tossing and turning inside our own fitful waking young sleep of a marriage?
Did you know it was me when I walked into your office introduced myself and sat down and proceeded to not trust you for a very good reason?
Because theses were quiet, personal times. And if you knew, there's something wrong with not saying a word about it the first time you saw me.

When I tell you we're no longer together

Don't be sad. Don't say 'I'm sorry.' Don't smile because you think it was the right thing to do, given the situation. Don't stare off blindly, not knowing what to say at all. Just support me, no matter what. Know that this process started years before you and I knew it had. Know that there is a way to happiness, and there is the way that always was. Just be there in the moment with me, as I am with you. Nothing you do or say could be worse though, ever, than not putting yourself in my shoes and listening to me calmly and respectfully. Because not knowing what to say or do in these situations usually happens with all people. But trust me, words sting, at times it seems permanently, after a loss when someone has said the wrong thing. But caring is never lost or forgotten as something marked and remembered as the one feeling that felt good through it all.

It's my Birthday!

My best dream ever happened last night. I dreamed a man let me stay with him in a remote European  country, I wasn't sure if was Germany or Poland, could have been either one. He was a professor of a foreign language. I stayed with him for sometime with my sibling sister, my twin sister. He also lived with his two siblings, a boy and a girl. They were ferociously mad that he would share his small estate with us. He defended us each day after work though. The best part was today was my birthday and I know the man in my dream and he is a man I highly respect and like. It's as though my subconscious was telling me, hey, we know it's your birthday, here's a non nightmare ;)

Him Poems

How many poems do you think, aren't about you? You're the original coat of paint. Scrape off the green, yellow and blues, and there lies egg shell white beneath. With your name carved into it with an indelible, chemical base.

The truth.

All my superman's turn back into Clark Kent's eventually.

Change will do you good

But will it happen again? I'm not that young chicken I used to be. I have dirt beneath these finger nails. I have much more bullet points on this list. I'm all crumpled inside when, before, droves were drawn to the smooth facets of naivety, innocence and live rage turned into the music of youthful energy and vibrant activity. I'm not the me who could bend and not break like jello. And my face now shows far too much of the incognito I'd like to cover these edges under. Simply put, I woke up and I need someone whose awake as well but won't try to beat me back into unconsciousness again.