One note at a time

 

I’ll share

my heart

with the soul

that

smiles

with me,

and I’ll worship

the one

whose heart is a wave

on the open sea.

I’ll like the stories

they share easily,

and I’ll hold them tightly

against the ones

that hurt them so deeply.

 

I’ll hold a place

for the one

whose heart is a drum, 

whose beats

are full of hope

in the way the world

as it stands

can one day

be redone.

 

For we

are song

flowing through

the

atoms

one single note

at a time,

and I will hold that note

as it pieces the night,

shattering every

particle of hate

into dust

that the

wind can

then scatter,

like anti-matter

to the hurt,

causing it

to disintegrate

into snowflake

hearts.

 

I'll hold my

heart wide open

like a doorway,

where I will take

the joy and the hope

and I’ll store it safely,

to be able to pour

twice as much back

into the world

all around me.

Box of memories

 

May I interest you in some rhymes?

They may deteriorate over time but

they will be a symbol of the love

I hold in this chest.

A box locked tight for all time.

 

May I divert the task into a different

symbolic path? Distort the ordinary,

digest the inert, let us turn slow thoughts

into something of worth.

If we unearth this box,

I let sit deep under my earth,

we can move mountains,

or at least not just be scrabbling in the dirt.

 

Is it of interest, this locked up container?

Inside resides all of my fears,

my hopes, my dreams,

the chained-up screams that try to break free

when I feel unworthy or ill at ease.

It’s like a diary of who I have been

and who I will be. A treasure chest

of every perfect memory, or

a jack in the box, ready to surprise

with some old nightmare imagery.

It is like a music box, with my most abstract

thoughts dancing to some horror lullaby.

It contains every story that could ever

be written about me and every fantasy

I scrawl into hearts on the beach.

 

Would you hold the key tightly

to your chest, to feel its cold steel reverberate

with every beat, or would you drop

it to the floor, letting the sands of time

devour it, until it is just dust in the breeze.

 

For I would share all of this with you.

The good, the bad, the stories that flow,

if you would also,

share with me your memories,

your hopes and fears,

your victories and your lows.

For all makes you the person

I want to share my time with.

And this box, can just gather dust.

For I’d rather build new memories

with someone for whom I care.

Doors

 

It feels like the sound of wheels

screeching to a halt. The sudden jolt

as you jerk awake from a bad dream,

heart beating too fast to contain everything.

 

It feels like being torn in two.

 

A piece of me left this place

tied to a piece of you, when you took

two paces and exited the stage.

Waving farewell in the arms of another.

 

It feels like a sky that sits always above,

and you are stuck, thrashing beneath 

the waves, just gasping for air.

The feeling of love, when love isn’t there.

 

It feels like a crashing building

and you are all that is left

to hold the pillars in place.

Truth be told

It feels like growing old without

any stories to tell, for the stories

told are fairytales of a fantasy realm

that was lost in a fable untold.

 

It feels like a thousand paper cuts

to the heart, and your blood is

saltwater rushing through.

It feels like looking for you

but knowing that your eyes

only look to him.

It brings a tear to the eye,

all the questions that no answers can provide.

All the ways that life feels tied to a weight,

so much emptier, yet heavier

without you here by my side.

 

It feels like walking out of a door

to be greeted by a million more.

Each one a death trap chamber

set by jigsaw, just to torture the heart

that only wants to beat for two.

But only one is left, as yours

found the hidden exit to the room.

 

And I’ll accept this pain,

because love is a cruel game

and sometimes the doors

don’t open for everyone.