the aftermath

i come to you, foolishly, wisely

asking for change.

you drop a silver coin in my hand, saying

“such as this you will become.”

and the tremors begin.

i want to be brave.  to be righteous.

to be untainted, to be free.

to love, to know and be known.

to mingle my soul with yours.

but it seems that the hellish traces of my fractured self

can only be burned away and consumed

by the most harrowing of fires

with a gravity and smoke

that crushes the spirit

at least for 24 hours

and it starts now.

i’ve dragged the blackness into my lungs

and tumbled far beyond any normal human’s reach.

i’ve marred myself

and you in the process.

and still here,

in a tangled heap

where tears melt and freeze

in disconcerting polarization

i crack under the pressure


a faint draft cools my tongue

a whisper, a sliver of hope rushes forth

and i see the muddied stars crashing and birthing and exploding overhead

and i think i trust you through the process.

i want you to brush the hair out of my eyes

and peer beyond the mortared defenses

and deep into my shame and wounds

with clarity and grace.

i want to feel your arms enfolding my neck

and the small of my back

while our breath mixes and blends

in silent intimacy

and you,

never loosening your grip on me.


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