I Let You In, You Let Me Down

I spoke the words

out loud,

giving this pain

a name

so you would know

it's real. 

I let the truth

spill out of my mouth, 

revealing all

like word vomit,

hoping you

could understand

what I've been through. 

But you didn't.

You don't. 

And I haven't spoken

to you since. 

What's the point

if you don't listen?

I know my demons

by name now -

I guess 

thanks to you -

but you don't need 

to meet them

or know them too,

especially

if you're not around

to help me fight them.

This pain isn't fleeting,

it isn't going away. 

It's another battle

in a war I fight 

every time I wake up, 

but it's mine. 

It isn't something

you can fix

or prevent

or take away.

You used to ask me

to be more open,

to tell you things

you didn't know. 

Now that I have, 

I wish I never did.

Maybe then

I wouldn't be

so disappointed

in all the ways

I've let you in

only to be 

left alone.

The Eye of the Hurricane

I once stood

in the eye

of a hurricane. 

I was nine. 

Or ten.

I remember

the silence

and the stars

and the way

the storm

seemed angrier

when the second

half came round. 

It was like I stole

something from it - 

coming out

and looking right at it

so boldly in the face

and I've never done it again. 

Some Days

Some days
I can't sleep.
A hurricane
bubbles up
inside me,
and my thoughts
swirl and churn
until they
are spun dry.
It's a spin cycle
that won't quit
no matter how
hard I try.

Some days
I can't get
enough sleep.
My bed sucks me in
like a Serta Sleeper vacuum.
I'm alone
and free
to sleep sideways
if I want -
and sometimes I do.

And then there are days
where thirty-eight
is too old,
my life is too young
to be this empty,
my heart is too melancholy
to thump one more time.

But it does.
And then it does it again.
Beat, beat, beat
against every word
or feeling
that tells it not to.

And then it does it again.

I Felt Myself Sinking

I felt myself sinking,
toes first
into the pluff mud
of my life,
slipping away
one piece
at a time.

The darkness rose
like an island,
pulling more of me
further down
and before I knew it
or could say a word,
I had already drowned.

It was that quick -
the silence -
and you were nowhere
in sight.
I guess if you looked
from a distance
I always looked fine.

Or maybe
you just never looked.

My Hometown

You are filled with history

and controversy,

ghost stories 

and monuments

of a time long gone. 

But you will not let go. 

You hold the past

with an iron fist

dug into the ground, 

anchoring us

to a sinking ship

no matter how hard

we try to swim, 

we know what's going down.

We struggle

against hurricanes

and heartache, 

rebel flags

and white rage,

sins of the past

and present mistakes. 

It just never ends. 

I escaped. 

I moved away. 

I found somewhere

I could breathe again,

where the humidity

didn't win

every time 

I walked out the door, 

where memories

didn't surface

every time

or any place I drove.  

Then I came home. 

And the only change

I see

is me. 

Strangers

I wanted more,
I wanted to be yours;
but you said you weren't ready -
it was all just too much.

Years changed us
but not how I felt.
Then you said the words
I'd waited for since we met -

And I was still not enough.

Somehow we made it through
and something honest began,
but it was like trying
to hold onto smoke.

You disappear
and reappear
like a bad magic trick.
I don't know about your life,
you don't know about mine.
We know nothing
because we don't ask
or talk or try.

Maybe
we were never really friends,
just two people
walking in the same direction,
occasionally making conversation.

Maybe
we were
but that was then,
and now -

I don't know you at all.

My Heart Is A Barrier Island

My heart is a barrier island

with bridges and inlets

keeping the world at bay. 

It's untarnished by hate,

wild with the overgrowth

of unchartered love. 

The ocean beats

against my shores,

beckoning for explorers

to come. 

No one does. 

I pull the bridges up

and withdraw

into the brambling forest

of loneliness.