the process

You sit heavy upon my chest tonight,
forcing hand to uptake pen
in effort,
in vain attempt,
to quantify
to clarify,
deep seated swelling emotion.
With logic, thought ,
reason,
modus tollens; modus ponens,
no negation,
no logical assertions eludicated,
therefore you remain
defiant ,
insistent upon not being eradicated.
And of what is your form?
Why so deep?
Why so forlorn?

Antique

I can surely suffer no more loss of myself in others.
My soul is as if I am the spent remains of press out cookie cutters,
his shape , your shape my lost dear friend, her shape,
gone .
Leaving,
holes,
sweet memories, turned bitter.
Short bursts of laughter,
long nights of tears,
"tell me 5 things I dont know about you" talks,
putting me on the airplane,
long terminal corridor walks.
What of my part in you, your part in me
must that now die too?
Can this sense of loss be all attributed to the flux, the dynamicity of life?
Seasons change I am told , people come and go.
But what of consistency , what of fight, what of resolve?
For I surely can suffer no more loss of self in others,
so tell me you will stay,
tell me time , and words unspoken ,
wont push away, wont destroy with atrophic decay
me in you ,
you in me,
us in we.

stream of thought

I am becoming and ending, such a sewing together and pulling apart, at the same time in myself, causes distress, to a heart and mind that is used to consistency, modus operandi, a bedrock of sight, foresight, a known end.

But now what am I becoming, and what is ending?

Hazy

You had your bed eyes on,
now your taste sits in the back of my mouth .
..sensory..
Swarthy, earthy, distinctly not my own,
Morning after, unbrushed , tongue,
dividing bacteria, microflora, -fauna.
Groggy eyes, remorse rising
with the sun,
tethered with hope
that this time
You would,
I could,
We should be..