Both wounds still hurt

The woman runs mad through each room
picking up every dust particle
and hoping that one day this pain
will subside with that feeling of doom.

The woman asks a stranger for answers
hoping that it will ease the questions
and answer why he left in so many ways
without leaving a light or even a gaze.

The woman weighs out his mind
analyzing his problems into excuses
so the mistreatment of a damaged heart
is overseen and his actions are lucid.

The woman looks at happy snapshots
in order to remember the moments
where he made the world spin away
sending all chaos over the fence.

The woman has that song on repeat
to put her right back in that place,
two giddy smiles in one bed,
avoiding the inevitable of losing that chase.

Don't Know Anymore

I awoke today visualizing your hands,
escaped the well just in time
to get up out of bed.

And I cannot breathe,
the music attempts to serenade the tears
but I continue to bleed evermore.

I cannot speak to anyone,
every other person tries to console
but it is not you who thumbs the drops.

I cannot conduct conversations,
others leap in to save a soul
but no words cure this longing.

I cannot stray from those songs,
Upbeat is sporatic
but I crossover immediately after.

I cannot race up those stairs,
5 o'clock teases my thrill to be home
but I will never open the door again to see you.

I cannot rest on those pillows,
the lavender scent is straining to satisfy
but it is your scent I crave.

I cannot smile for tomorrow,
the sun carefully crafts a surprise
but my dreams of you never come true.

I cannot defeat this depression,
my therapist instructs to step away
but when I step away I fear you will be gone.

Fragile

I can't afford to be disappointed,
no answer
and I'm pulled through the cracks
of that sofa.

I can't afford to imagine what I don't know,
my hands clench the sides of my bed
and my pelvis spasms
to the shock of your physical deterioration.

I can't afford to listen to that song,
"When they ask me what pulled me through
I'll say it was you,"
the tears cannot keep up with the truth.

I can't afford to see your name,
'just look away'
and I can continue to step forward,
just missing the impact of a train.

I can't afford to think of your seasons of hair,
just waiting,
I shall wait forever to see the seasons pass
while the "world spins madly on."

I can't afford to see new pictures,
I then near the end,
the residue from your footprints
rises into air faster than my control.

I can't afford to see your face on that oval,
smell those dead flowers,
or read your devastating words,
so it remains tucked away in that drawer
where I keep the last chapter of your life.

I miss your desire to surprise me in my greasy black attire at 9:30pm on a weeknight with your duffelbag over your shoulder. On your black and yellow bullet you'd then briefly vacate two hours away at 4:30 the next morning and return the next night in a speed stream after 5.

You see, most people don't bleed during the minutes away from their love. Most individuals can wait an entire day. I remember driving up north on dark, unknown, windy roads at 10pm and having to leave 7 hours later. The time with you was just never enough. No matter what we were granted, on either of our clocks, I sat through each tick of a second, wondering where your head lay, where your feet roamed, whether our arms could intertwine just once more, just a million more.

"He passed away..." and I cannot breathe.

Stuck

I hate this world you left behind.
Nothing satisfies a lonely heart.
Your grin I cannot bare,
imprinted in my mind,
I remain wishful
that I will see it to my left.

I hate this unfulfillable addiction.
These body aches can never find you.
Yearning for someone under ground
is like trying to plow
towards the center of the earth.

I hate that my feet remain glued.
I cannot move if you remain on a photograph.
Further and further away,
time gradually is pulling me away
from the one love that changed my life.

I hate that my heart is not the leader.
Outside chaos without you has invaded my heart.
Lacking your carefree spirit in sight
has fueled my attempts
to seek it out until I'm in flight.

I hate that a sentence sends me fleeting.
The pressure boils to the surface.
And then I remember even during the storm
being tucked in with your arms
wrapped tightly around my tears.

I hate that I still reach for your shoulder.
I hate that I still say your name in playful banter.
I hate that I still mimic your mannerisms.
I hate that I still say "we".

But most of all
I hate that I never find that mole on your left shoulder.
I hate that I never hear you say my name or talk about the first time you heard "Kristin" and was intrigued.
I hate that I never can pause to stare at your wide open smile or joker playing out from your tattoo.
And among all things that I cannot change, I hate that we can never be "we" again.

Rain

Walking in the rain. Was simply one of the things you told me last. Hair drenched, drops forming at the nose, blending in with the salty water forming at the eyelids. I went for a jog that turned into a walk and suddenly realized that I was doing the same thing. Wondering if people driving by were thinking, 'Man that woman has to be crazy.' Well, am I? To suddenly realize that my feet couldn't move faster than my numb, cold fingers can against these keys. I must be.

"That was a good day," you said after recollecting that strom in The Dells from your rainy walk. How was it good I still wonder. Did you feel safe with me inside that car as trash cans almost hit your Olds? Did you enjoy feeling like a team when we were trying to decide what to do? Did you love holding me, teasing me from my nervous energy and smiling at my wide eyes? Did you like coming out of the storm and into the sun together? I did.

I just wish we could have came out of that last storm together.

Love

"And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration
One good stretch before our hibernation
Our dreams assured and we all, will sleep well

You have stolen
You have stolen my heart"

Once the wreckage vacates the bend,
the road appears clear
and the gold lines beat faster and faster
to an ever breathtaking path.

You can't look over at the shoulder
or pay attention to the lines anymore,
straight ahead is your heart
and at last you have found it.

Salty water drips down your cheeks
but dry from your pace;
they never hit the ground
to join your leaping feet.

The answer is clear now,
the clouds have parted
and nobody else exists.

How unbelievable it feels
to bask in the arms you've always wanted,
to follow your heart
when all outside chaos
binds it to logic.

How indescribable it was
to let you in again
that one fall evening
without any trailing thought.

I knew at that moment
there was no where else
I would rather be in the world
than back in your warm, thick arms,
looking above at the glistening sea
gazing back at me
with slow motion lips.

Just one song.
Just one moment.
Sends me right back.
Right back chasing for that bubble.
That bubble that you and I only know.