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I Am Not His Savior

She lies she lies –
Tell me you love me.
She smiles she smiles –
Tell me you’re happy.
She cries she cries –
Baby, I’m sorry.
She tries to feel things that were never there
–A well of emotions lying untouched behind her ribs –
But the well is empty, perhaps it was never full;
It cannot save a field of dying crops and it cannot save the man.
She watches him drown before her, arms treading water,
His mouth barely dragging in air.
She has done this to him, but maybe he has done it to himself.
The sand of the shore feels wet and smooth beneath her feet, begging her to come out, to save the dying man.
The water froths violently at her ankles –
She doesn’t know how to swim, doesn’t know how to save him, wishes he had never asked her to.
The moon pushes the tide and the tide pushes her.
She is caught in this war that she never asked to fight –
Her mind wants to give in but her heart remains unmoved in her chest.
The moon pushes the tide and the tide pushes her,
But she is a wall of stone; she will not be moved.
Baby, I’m sorry –
She cries she cries.
Tell me you’re happy –
She frowns she frowns.
Tell me you love me –
She speaks the truth.
She opens her mouth and the tide rushes in, attempting to drown her words.
But when the waves recede, they bring with them the turning of the tide, the setting of their sun.
The man is waiting.
Tell me you love me –

…No.

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What You Give

We are so innocent you and I
Untouched by the worst of the world.
Give it time—
It will swallow us whole.
Give it hate—
It will devour us.
Give it fear—
We are already gone.
But give it love,
And we will live an eternity.

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Covet

I stared into your window hoping—was it hope?
To catch a glimpse, something real.
Your soul, perhaps?
The curtains fluttered, tiny bird wings–caught and touched and flew.
Startled, you shut the window—but it’s cold outside.
Won’t you let me in?
My breath fogs the glass—close, but not enough to touch.
Did I scare you?
Windows locked, all boarded up. No cracks or crevasses, not a space for me to slip inside.
Your door doesn’t open for me.
I stared into your window hoping—was it hope?
To catch a glimpse of your world, something real.
Your soul I found, was it love, perhaps?
Or simply, everything, that my world lacked.

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Cigarettes

She smokes cigarettes and her eyes bleed red.
Sadness sits heavy on her skin like foundation
Mascara runs black down her cheeks like rain
She’s crying tears for a sadness she cannot pronounce
Hands sinking in her pockets while she contemplates madness
One inhale ignites the night
The cigarette isn’t the only thing that’s burning.
She’s burning up the world too.
Dreams go up in the smoke of that cigarette and faith falls to the floor with the ashes.
A single match to light up the world.
Just like it lit up her last cigarette.

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The World Becomes Her

The world covers her hands—
In splatters of blue and green, red and yellow—
Paints her body with pieces of knowledge like stars in a night sky.
For she is truth and beauty
And lies and greed—gold with envy and naked with purity—
She is the world
And the world becomes her