A Mishappening

Sometimes,
you have to listen
to a
tragedy,

just so
you will realize
that your
life
isn't very
bad.

And other times,
you need to
know
that it's okay
to feel
sad.

The Howling

The wild, the willing, the free.

She took to the blue
and saw
everything.

The breathing, the living, the need.

She played in the muck
and felt
calm.

The absence, the empty, the good.

She ran from them
and took
nothing.

Ugly

You make me sad a lot.

You make me angry.
You make me tired.
You make me sick.

But I guess I make you sick back.

I didn't mean to.
And I didn't know.
And I didn't think you would be like that.
I still don't think you're like that.

But you are.

It's this ugly wrath that's taking over.
It's this ugly view that's distorted.
It's this ugly loathing that's left you feeling deserted.

But it doesn't have to be that way.

You don't have to do this.
You know that.
So why do you?
Why do you let this ugly monster suck the life out of you?

Because all I can see is you withering away.

All I can see is your hollow cheek bones.

Your darkened, sunken eyes.

All I see is the remnants of what used to be a healthy human.

What used to be...

The Gully

I only came to reminisce.   And I brought someone new along.   You're still being used to the greatest of my imagination.  You still hold a charming barren look.  I like that about you.  I like that you've only changed because you were forced to.  I like that I can still visit my childhood through your eyes.

I'm not sure how my companion feels about you.  (I think she likes you.)  But you're still my fondest friend.

When I think about you, I think of a melody.  You've always been good at harmonizing.  And I'm not sure if that's a contradiction or not, but I mean it.

And you know what?

I don't care that I've had to share you.  Usually I'm possessive and obsessive, but there's an unspoken kinship between those that have owned you.

And your presence--for years--has made us feel on top of the world.

Apocalyptic

I've seen you.
I've seen the way you move.
I've seen the way you let go.
I've seen the way you explode.

I mean those earth-shattering words.
I mean my world is curling.
I mean to tell you.

But we know it doesn't work like that.
We know that I can't.
Do you know?
Do you know how fast my stomach is spinning?

I want you to know.
I want you to want me to know.
I want you to stop cutting corners.
I want you to stop taking shortcuts.
I want you to want to take the long road.

Because even if it doesn't work out,
even if it's apocalyptic,
we'll have it.
We'll have the experience.
We'll know.

I'm Dancing With the Devil.

I've witnessed many thunderstorms.  Heart-stopping, blood-chilling.  But I haven't experienced any other quite like yours.  No, yours sent my mind spinning and body tumbling.  And when I tried to shuffle my feet in some sort of awkward waltz, you were hesitant to give consent.

I cracked you, however.  Your thunder receded into a quiet thumping and your lightening faded to a glimmer.  You finally let yourself go.  And boy, did you pour.

I drank it all up.

I loved the innocence of pure rain.  I loved the lack of fright.  I loved that you released your dark opinions and finally became truly original.

Except, now the weather is almost always partly cloudy.  I haven't seen grey in a long while.  And no conclusion has reached my head.  I think it could be best for both of us.  But that little devil on my shoulder keeps doing a rain dance.

And he's really good at those.

Promises

"I can give you the stars," he said.

"How many?"  She asked.

He smiled,

and whispered,

and lied.

"All of them."