The Long Walk Home

Hand in yours,
I walk quietly.

The sun in my eyes,
Packed dirt below my bare feet,
my throat closes with fear and uncertainty

Thoughts racing through the back of my mind
While the front holds back everything I never told you
And your grip loosens as you notice my fear

I never wanted to feel like this
I never wanted to tell you this

The Earth stands still
You stand still
And it's just me,
again,

As it is supposed to be.

I once told you forever
and I was trying to be as honest as I could
- but now I don't know

The wind is stopped
Light fragments as tangible as the leaf stuck in mid air
As the water molecules remnant in your exhale

I kiss you

Time starts once more
as the Earth begins to move under our feet
Your eyes grow wide
Then relax
and kiss back

My hand pushes you back,
Your arms hold me captive
Eyes promising me a tomorrow
While mine beg for an always

Lips lying about a yesterday
            Without you
I won't
           Forget you

I couldn't         No matter how much I tried

But I expect that you could, me

You close your eyes
and I am gone

A curious thought...
But it has led me to your doorstep;
Camera in one hand
Journal in the other

After snapping a picture of your face
as you opened the door,
I tell you that I now understand
and must show you

The calm breeze gently caressed your skin
lightly tossed your hair
As the sun glittered out from your eyes

You looked at me,
All but surprised
took my hand
and led me inside

We sat in your living room,
the sun peering in through your opened windows
Light filling the whole house
The smell of lilacs and wildflowers flowing in freely

Your hand reached out and touched my face
Steady and strong
you lifted my chin
Beautiful eyes looking back into mine

And in this moment
Our lips will meet

The journal will fall,
pages turning by gravity's will
as thoughts are sifted by
drawings as drawn and then erased by another moment
of another day

As we share this moment,
the final page reads,
"I am nothing without you."

If a god does exist, he sure does hate me this week.

My Last Hope

I'm getting myself together
Folding my thoughts up neatly
Sorting through them
As I decide how to place them in my soul bag

I pull on my dignity
Grab the honesty before I forget it on my cluttered desk
Then head for the door

Taking once last glance back,
Anger glares at me through the slits of the closet's double doors
Depression cries out from the dishwasher

Continuing to glance around,
I almost failed to notice the piggy bank on my side table,
I take up a hammer in my hand and crack it open
Hope flies out in a fury
But I calm her, speaking quietly and gently,
telling her that it's time to leave this haunted home

Tucking her into the pocket of my faded, worn spirit,
She rests peacefully.

I grab my soul bag of thoughts,
sorted neatly,
walk through the door,
and then never looked back.