Trapped

when I am the snow without the season

made to believe in the riddle

but not the reason

what should I have asked you to bring? 

one shelter for seeking

one memory good enough for keeping

when I am

waiting

forgotten

trusted

to accept what cannot be

because after all of this

what was your plan

what is to become of me?

The year after

oh how I loved you

more than the tides could ever

love the moon

but now silence mocks the faithful

as I ripple with the green grass

go blind from the apathetic sun

Forgotten

I woke up as a fairy in the empty restaurant next to the woods.  I suppose I always knew when I wanted to live in the dollhouse in the attic that my hopes and dreams beat inside of a tiny heart.  But not until I opened my eyes and found myself crouching in the furthest corner of the kitchen pantry did I know for certain.

I had been gone for a year—where, I couldn’t say.  Some industrious housekeeper within had thrown huge dust covers over much of my memory, but I wasn’t sure I minded.  Something about the twilight endlessly falling over the woods told me that the last good day had been long ago.

So Far Away

You were a picture in a book                    nestled between a cranny and a nook             where I could close my eyes and see       but the library locked its doors        and I am prostrate on the floor                       you do not belong to me               you do not belong to me

Damocles' Sword

We ate dinner that night in almost total silence—or, should I say, I pretended to eat my dinner while Bryan just sat there, lost in space and nursing a large tumbler filled with whiskey.  His excessive intake of alcohol was starting to worry me, although I would have died before I told him this.  He might have thought I still cared about him then.

Goodbye blue skies

We are one day past forever

so let me tell you a

story

full of hope and

recrimination

and yet somehow                   

somehow

            hello hello                    fire in the hole

I wonder

but I cannot get past the bluster

the suggestion dripping down my throat

We tried but

            this is not what I

kiss me good night

            as forgiveness winds around my

could we just

            a lie must never be hunted

when the game is already dead to me

I could tell you a story

full of tomorrows and redemption

but who would we be

kidding

acceptance is the poison

In this lexicon of sorrow

I am too tired to speak for myself

if you saw miracles spring from darkness

I saw only memory

swathed in charcoal dusty

dream

Betrayed

In the endless twilight that enveloped the restaurant, no customers ever came.  Instead, my friend Marietta, the hostess, usually sat at one of the perfectly-made tables by herself, doing paperwork of a kind we never discussed.  Only the fading light that rippled through those whispering trees dared enter the large T-shaped room.  Why were there no customers?  On my previous visits I’d just seen Marietta in that hushed hour of solitude.  Like so many other questions I must have forgotten to ask her this one, too.