All In Your Head.

This night I have decided that we are holy
and whole enough to keep writing poetry
I am smearing pencil marks with the tips of
my fingers, waiting patiently for the ground
beneath my feet to shift
and direct me towards a logical solution
for the puzzle this life is becoming.
I hear you whisper over my shoulder
that sometimes you wish we were stitched to
each other, and other times you want to sew
your lips shut forever, it feels safer to keep the words in
this is all too familiar
often we are a mutual hallucination
walking down the street holding hands with the shadow of
a person we remember so clearly.
We are a segment of time frozen in a cracked mason jar
and though it will never taste the same when thawed out
we thought out our time capsule carefully
picked only the most succulent ingredients;
the smell of bed sheets after a week of too much sleeping
home cooked breakfasts and any-time-of-day tea,
books of poetry and prose to chew on while we wait for
everything to age long enough for it to be worth something.
There does't always have to be a satisfying ending
some stories hang on cliffs or sit on shelves for decades
and some heart attacks are long predicted before they happen
because waiting semi-patiently is in our blood and so is charisma
our hearts don't always fit inside our chests
or on the shelves we have built for them.

Part 3: Right where you want me.

1. You can do this without me I assure you
we both know the time you've spent building
a force field around yourself has not gone to waste,
not entirely.
2. You are good at hiding away inside your own tower and I admire that
but if you can see me then common sense says I can see you too
and despite the all too frequent plot twists, this is the story
that we are both sticking to.
3. You will never go entirely with out me
sadly, this is not good news in all cases.
4. There is not a tape measure long enough for this distance.
5. There is no rule of thumb for how to hurt effectively.
6. I am no help in finding solutions for most things these days
while I am skimming the clouds with my skull and you are
far too wine drunk to notice the difference.
7. This life is not a twelve step program
and we do not always have to view ourselves as a nuisance
or view the things that come naturally to us as poison
believe me, walking away takes more than twelve deep breaths
or twelve days or twelve lies or twelve steps
and changing your mind can turn to hyperventilating very quickly.
8. They told me to be careful what I wished for
I failed to heed every warning presented
but look where it got me.
9. There is a beautiful girl sleeping in my music box head
whether she knows it or not and her breath is a lullaby.
10. It will take all the running in the world
just for me to keep up with myself. You are another story.
There is no amount of movement that could set us on the same track again.
11. Poetry will never be enough to describe this heart ache and we have a mutual understanding of the drawn out process of elimination it takes to rub the aching out so for now let's just relax.

Part 2: The Danger

I have never been afraid of listening
to the sound of your skin brushing against mine
I am more afraid to hear my own voice crack
because of the craters it has gotten so good at creating
I'd like to know for a fact that this language of ours
is something we can use to write stories, poetry,
to create a world inside this one where it's safe to
tell you that despite my love for you ever expanding
I have plans to hold on to you far too tightly
I intend to wake up every day full knowing
I still want to be somewhere locked inside you
be my fairy tale tower to hide in and pretend
it doesn't hurt when I bang my head on the walls
I will beg for your forgiveness even
while you throw it at me by the handful
and acknowledge that I ask for far too much
far too often and I never make up for the parts
of you that I have claimed for myself by force of habit...
The dangerous part of this is not the writing,
it isn't the paper wasting, it's not the silence,
the danger of everything we have ever hoped to be is that
this pulsing swimming between us on contact
is capable of frying the best parts of us
no amount of running will dry the flood we're drenched in
you are such a good conductor when you wear that armor love
another ten steps and you'll be right in place for the
lightning storm.
But harbor no fear of being in shock
we will write novels in finger tip touching static moments
and pretend it doesn't hurt when we drain our heads.

This is dangerous, but what can we do?

What I meant to say...part 1.

At this point I am still stumbling through the low light
wondering how I got so dumb founded by you
I can't manage polite conversation without making you feel worthless
yet every intoxicating moment with you seems to last eternities
there is no explanation or excuse for this behavior.
I just want to be your best friend again
and I know there is a correct way to do everything
so I promise to stop skipping steps in reliable recipes
because you deserve only the sweetest things
soft pink stones, red wine, and chocolate
predictions and giggles and silver rings.

Double Speed.

This is the hand we've been dealt, my dear.
Incessant shuffling will only spread hope
of better luck next time.
You are still the lucky lady,
but we can not make faces neutral enough
to cover up this kind of love game.
We've made up new sets of rules so many times
that I forgot how to play fair.
I'm sorry.

Recollections.

I have an overwhelming urge to lay on the carpet with you
for hours at a time we will pretend we are capable
off stepping over each other and tip toeing in circles
There is no valid reason for this strong of a craving
the smell of you stuck to the bathtub
we sure knew how to be neglect importance
our hand prints were never permanent
still I find myself wanting you
the only home I have to come back to
your door is locked now and the wind out here is bitter cold.

Cleansing

As pressure builds within my skin,
the canyon walls stare down at me with expectations
I can not simply guarantee that I will meet them
or that I will meet you
or the latest updated version of myself
until my ears pop atop the mountain
and I learn to breathe with conviction.
It is about time I quit wondering why things
never seem to work out for those with rusted intention.
It is about time I change the way I make promises
and dilute the amount of time I spend waiting
for myself to break every one of them.
We are not as stone cold when we are sleeping,
we dream only of swinging days away and even more dreaming.

Despite it all.

You are the way I want to be living
resting my head between your hips
I could get so used to this
but you wouldn't let me
because believing in every day change
can be an unfathomable curse
when you decide that despite everything
you could choose one moment to exist in forever
This love is how I want to be living
it is enormous yet perfectly pocket sized
so I can never misplace it
only my oxygen
I could get so used to being breathless
but you wouldn't like that for too long
we are always calming down our hearts
always changing
an ice bath to stop the convulsing
You are living that I fiend for despite it all.

Don't look here.

My chest is rising on the off beats
and I'm hoping you won't look here
where I hold my knees to my heart tightly and
don't bother to question why my whole body is frozen
I hope the X on the map misleads you because
your eyes won't be able to adjust to this
dim lighting that I prefer when I'm fighting myself
please don't look here
you will not find the person
you ever wanted to make love to
buried beneath the arguments
I can hardly see my hand before my face
steam blurring the importance of seeing at all
and you aren't looking for me
because I am successfully selfish
and don't play well with others under pressure
but I don't look dangerous from a distance
its the closeness in brush strokes you have to
watch out for
most people never look closely enough
I thought I had read you so thoroughly
could recite the parts that meant the most to me
but we have been looking at different pictures
of what it means to be true to something
and forgetting all the things we didn't find interesting
this was never about me
so don't you dare look for me here
in the privacy of my breathing
even if you do
I highly doubt you'll find me... -C. Foster

Evidence of Head Rush

There is a phone ringing down a hallway in my small intestine the news dripping from the spiral chord has potential to tie us all in knots. There is a TV blaring infomercials at 3 am in the privacy of my left eardrum, suddenly interrupted by sirens and blue screen. There is insomnia lurking in my throat pacing before my front door lips. My body is far too restless to lay silent and still. A bowl of longing sits rotting on the kitchen table in the middle of my stomach. Why is it I am never satisfied?