I see your stories, they lift me up

The courage of narratives I’ve consumed fills my blood

How do you walk without footsteps to follow?

Either constructed by you, by the past, or by sorrow?

I fight for my freedom from a mind full of tar

And the stories I wield light the flames in my heart


Sitting on your kitchen floor.

You cook me breakfast in your dark blue jeans

Open button-up displaying constellations on your chest

Asking me why didn’t I knock on your door when my dark dreams disturbed me the night before?

My love, the haunts of my past are not yet yours

To tame.


Well, the jolt has now gone about;

I am left apathetic, soul-pockets turned out;

The static is back. with its whispers of peace

Dissolutions in dreams that will invite me to sleep

But the moment I trust, when the defenses delay

That’s when the blades and the flames come to play.

They snap their teeth invitingly and howl at me to stay

Someone please free me — but wait until tomorrow —

Tonight the exhaustion of grief is a more than welcome sorrow

please, God!

You don’t understand why I’ve suddenly gone quiet

You see no reason for alarm in the events we’ve perceived

But the lights that you see are all pitch black to me.

I am lost in a corridor you cannot find.

If I open my eyes, they will be blank as the night

I am tired of seeing. Rip my heart from this life

Or at least let me cry —


I expect everyone I love to be ripped from me

I have buried you many times in my mind

raised voices signal death. Loud noises and I flinch

I see nothing but grief when I close my eyes

Where others would feel hope

Sorrow has already moved in

You stand in front of me, wide eyed and safe

But I fear losing pieces of your face

I have already begun to grieve these losses I have yet to taste


I seek out the word “hurt”
And you are the underlying theme;
Your name like a bad song
Rotting in my scrawled memories;

Why didn’t I realize
When the wounding occurred
That your love was turmoil;
Poisoned and flawed?

I dreamed we were together
And woke with the cold, with the dagger-like pain
Not because I’d lost you;
But from the sharpness of your name;

I woke. Remembered my faith.
Walked into the hallway
And kissed him — relief glittering on my face.
Because while ‘hurt’ was your word…

His word is ‘safe.’