You Can Survive

August alone again, prove me wrong

Dreams turned to nightmares

Out of the woods now, but strictly ill-willed attackers want me
Or — what I can give them

Still, every day, I show up
Smiling
Asking for more

Only arms-length adorers greet me
A bridge they must cross

All I am is a testimony
You can survive
Chaos
Abandonment
Doormatism
Abuse
Abandonment
Abandonment
Abandonment

She Really Is

She is not He
Nor an It or an If

She is Where It’s At, Has Always Been, and Forever More Will Be

Where If Goes To Become

She is Where He Needs To Be Attending To

She Really Is

She Is Peaches and Mittens
August Fire, Mountain Avalanche
She Is Baseball and Criminal

There’s no more Not Knowing Such Love

She Is Leading Me

Symphonic

I want
With the stroke of my pen, to strike you down
With the blink of my eyes, to unsee you

More importantly

I need
With the tools I surely possess, to repair my own heart
With the uncommon grace that is my sinew, to forgive you

Golden Age

What do you call that Far East Asian ancient sailboat?

The one that’s always amber-orange and silhouetted, multiple masts

Sailing slowly but deliberately to anywhere but here

Help me because I can’t think

What, with all the noise in my head, contemplating your silence

Your confident cowardice

What do you call it

I want to hitch a ride to anywhere but here

Treasure?

No — what do you call it?

Insults and Injuries

I bemoan and decry
How
No one — absolutely no one

Whether in writing, or whether verbally
Neither by smoke-signal, ancient code, pony-express, street sign, Social, nor any other means of communication or Media

Except Shakespeare, himself

Provided instruction on the following:

Seeing the writing on the wall;

Surviving the sudden, unspoken goodbye;

Understanding in any way, shape, or form, heartbreak;

Avoiding the subsequent self-loathing;

Navigating the wrong kinds of depths, whilst working to resurface;

The exact location where one may file a writ of replevin to retrieve back their spirit — unshattered, whole, good as new — and perhaps their house key, as well; and,

Walking with confidence therewith.

Inspirational Credit:
“Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.”
-William Shakespeare

Behind Me

You won’t see me
Martini
Numbed, ever
Spirits
Drowning my demons, never

I walked from you
Champagne-free
Toasting, forever
Mock(ed) Margarita
Proud, untethered

Post-Victim Era
H2O-flasked
Glowed, better
Sweet Jesus-juiced
My senses, together

Your Door: A Poem to My Son

Such is the challenge
To behold a door
To sense all it leads to
While not grieving more

To know if it’s opened
The Divine has willed
To praise, when it’s closed
His providence, still

Forth, amble with purpose
Or wait night and day
But ask for The Blessing
God’s presence, to stay