“Tactics of Love”
When will we learn that sometimes our love is a demon, and that sometimes a demon can love?
If I promise not to hurt you, will you look at me in my eyes?
If I hold your hand, will you accept the touch beneath our skins?
There is a kingdom under the outer shells of our bodies and I am here,
to explore the intricate design of your soul.
If you let me I will guide you through the fallen out cities and refugee camps where I found comfort from the encroachments placed in me by those who became so lost in love that the only escape path was through pressing a button
which held at bay the inevitable self-destruction of a system far past max-capacity.
The radiation of past loves glow from within to without and unfold a series of
emergency tactics and counter-strikes until the once great city built in me, for me,
lay in decrepit ruins crumbling around me.
I have cleared away everything I could, but how can one clear away what they cannot see?
The depths of my soul ring with an electronic babble of times past, until I discover that like most uncomfortable noise, this one too slowly fades away.
Then you entered.
I watched you curiously looking through the bombed out boutique windows,
stopping at the now empty museums commemorated in the honor of those who have now left.
In your skin too I see the afterglow of someone infected with the twisted love we are told to feel.
You turned the corner and there arrived at the town square I once held court at.
You looked up and saw me, and our souls began the dangerous dance we have been taught.
Infantry, navy, bombardiers, cavalry will be called in a sacrificial onslaught labelled self-defense.
Then, right before the lines are drawn, you close your eyes.
What happened to the battle?
I was never a fan of initiating conflict, but now what?
In the silence, a footstep is heard.
My eyes shut too.
Have I ever known the feeling of another soul against mine?
How do you love someone when they are afraid?
Love is not about change it is about acceptance.
I accept you for all that you are and I will promise to never look only at who you are in my mind,
but to constantly look back into your eyes to see the gentle smile, the warm comfort, you.
Yet at times when I look up, all I can see is you running, running, running away.
Your hand presses into my own, but the love is lost in the mazes of your own soul and I
am so tired of chasing my way through labyrinths of heart, mind, and body without so much
as a turning glance of recognition.
I have slain my demons, mapped out the walls of my own mind, and now have come out the other end ready to feel the touch and love of a familiar form.
My heart is in your hands.
Are you ready to open your eyes?
“The Hopeful Heart”
Standing at the water’s edge
You were here with me so long ago.
Now I can only see you when my eyes are closed.
Rain breaks through the steely surface
And smoke leaves your mouth.
It was your third that day, when you looked at me
and said, “Where else can we go?”
We stole a few seconds to ourselves that day
and you seemed so content when we had to say goodbye.
If I could have held your hand for a lifetime,
I would have.
On top of an abandoned table rests a crane,
made of folded coffee receipts
and pieces of napkins ripped into
the shapes of countries litter the floor
where we first learned the
secret songs of each others spirit.
If our story carries on across the oceans,
will it be told as hearts on fire torn apart by time,
or as the synthesis of souls folding together?
You have been through much before,
I see it in the way your eyes won’t meet mine.
In a dirt-floored room I was struck
for the first time with a question.
Am I a puzzle piece kept separate until it is time to play my part
in your larger picture?
Or did we meet so we could learn together
that none of us have our own square stories,
and none of us are truly waiting for a single missing piece?
Sometimes I dream about the music you could have made.
It’s as beautiful as you are when I close my eyes
and feel the hand you pulled away
holding mine, unafraid and content at last.
Wouldn’t that memory have been sweeter than a love
kept secret and played out in quick glances up from the ground?
I collected the shredded pieces of my heart
and taped them back together one night,
so we could learn to love,
complete and whole.
But the next day you kissed me,
All I was left with were the edges you touched,
and a feeling that even if our pieces don’t fit perfectly
we could at least fold together
into something beautiful and new to us both.