Epiphany

It is never absolute
and there is not one way
to get from here
to a there
that has been nurtured
by a past
that had been lived
inside a light that shone
cheering
louder than the ones
who told you that
what you had was plenty
and that you should
rest easy
with what there is
already.

We'll be even

I am never everything all at once
and when I'm close to falling
I thought you could
wrap your arms
under mine
and hold me there for a while
if the heavy gets too much
and I am tired.
If that means I am weak
then I am powerless to change.
I need you
and that's what is real
for the time being.

This morning I thought

I have taken all the words you've spoken
and laid them in lines along the floor.
Rearranged each one
and moved them
next to a word they'd never seen before
so that you finally would have said
what I wanted you to since then
and the day could start differently.

It never worked

I have sat in the corner
of what is quiet
and watched,
still,
expecting those I hoped
knew
to know already
for longer than half of my days
and I am tired
and it isn't working
and I am lost
and out of ideas.

Idiocy in times like these

Foolish is the man
who uses a needle and thread
to sew imagination to truth
until it drapes from
one end of his day to the other
and hangs heavily over
all there is
until one doesn't exist alone
and there is only sorrow
when the fabric wears thin
and his life is proven to be
mostly make believe.

With scissors I cut leaves

With scissors
I cut leaves and shoots
out of the love letters
and planted the beginnings into
soil near my home
so they'd be new
and would grow up
walls built from habit
that I have lived inside
since there was a pen in my hand
and the roots would force each brick
to crack and weaken
so I could become strong in its place
and start again.
It seems only to make sense
to do what I can
until I am face to face
with the person I would've been
had I not wasted time
looking in vain
with eyes that were not mine.

Flight 52:12

So that you know

There are minutes that
compared to those before
are lack lustre and blue,
limping sadly towards
a then that is done.
And then there are those
that are embarrassingly rich
and full
of reminders
of what can be built
when you walk forward
knowing only too well
that the balance
isn't always
in your favour.

Until then, us

When I grow up
I will be inside your arms
and you will walk me
to the edge of what I know
and paint something
new
until we are in a world
made up of what we are,
together.

An obvious answer

There must be
a family of moles
living inside where
my brain
used to be,
burrowing and gnawing
and making themselves at home
amongst tissue
and matter,
cos my head is heavy
and I feel sick
and I can't think
of a more likely scenario
than that.

Lemons into lemonade

When your body flounders
and all that you have
is your voice
then bellow
and roar
and do not be quietened
by imminent conclusion.
Let it cast forward light
to illuminate all that you never said
and bask there
until the words restore your might
and tomorrow's burden is lifted.

Advice #4

There is nothing easy
but there is
regardless
and you can only
weave through
all that is left
dancing past shadows
until it is gone.

Entirely yours

My adoration for you is so
embarrassingly whole,
so complete in its form,
each line defined,
sharp and polished,
that it could be
seen and
identified
from towns ten over from here,
glowing boastfully and
basking in its own shine,
in spite of my pleading
to the contrary.

Him

I love Ronald Reagan very much.

End of post.
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange

And when the time comes, illustrated

It was initially in reaction to the passing of Amendment 1 in North Carolina which banned gay marriage in the state but it soon became a plea to everyone to stop focusing on our differences and instead start focusing on the things we have in common. All of us are human and nothing else.

Beginning

It did not break.
It was just blown away
and I travelled along with it,
planted my feet when the wind stopped
and began growing a new life there
away from where you stood.

Thought you should know

If I could live inside your pocket
for a lifetime or more
then I most certainly would.
I would make a home
in the pouch of your shirt
so I would be near your heart
and would feel every beat
through the fabric
knowing for sure
that each beat was for me
and only me.

In spite of myself

I'm going to write
my sigh on a piece of paper
and fold it a thousand times,
until its smaller than a single penny,
and put it inside a box
and run to the middle of the woods
and dig a hole
all the way to China,
almost,
and put the box with the note inside
into the ground
and cover it in soil
and then run until I'm out of breath
and the woods are out of sight
and I'm far away from it all
because I miss you
and I don't want anybody to know.

How you knew what I was thinking

You sat covered in books
and scraps of paper
with the words
of great writers
scrawled carelessly
in black pen
on every line
as the light outside
disappeared behind houses,
and every now and then
glanced over at me
as I ran my fingers through my hair
and paced towards the window
and back again.
'You're never far from forever,'
you said
'no matter where you stand.'

Love is like falling

I kissed your mouth
to mark the spot
and to remember
and the taste of cigarette smoke
travelled from yours
into mine
and I knew I couldn't stay
and I'd never leave if I did
and I felt your weight on me
as we stood in each others arms
balanced
on a long arc
between then and now.
That night
you slept soundly
and I missed you.

And when the time comes

And when the time comes
that what you thought
begins to tarnish and rust
and the burnished flecks
of what you believed
inevitably
lay piled on the ground
I hope only that
in their place
a white light appears
and is fed
until it grows wider
than your narrow
point of view
and you see that
friction causes fires to burn
and that fire destroys
without exception.
Time won't stand still
waiting for you to catch it up
and you needn't be standing on
the wrong side of history
when what is certain
takes both of your hands
and pulls you into a living
that recognises
that we all rise and fall
and that
there is only harm
to be done
when we hold onto
what seperates us.

What I realised

I thought maybe I was dying
because I am as tired as I was
yesterday
and I've slept since then.
But I soon remembered
that being me is exhausting
cos I'm a dick most of the time
and my body just needs to catch up
with my mouth
and then I didn't think I was dying
anymore.

Smoke

I hope there isn't only
silence
that sips up
sound
after,
since today it seems certain
that even
love can break
and that devotion
doesn't promise eternity
no matter who you pray to.
There is only bones
and skin
and air
and a loneliness
that takes its place
when it is done.
Winter is gone
but its chill is sat on my shoulders
with its hands around my neck
and it is whispering
'everything dies'
into my ear
and I will continue to love you
even knowing what I do
and we'll make a home
inside of it
until we are smoke.

I only ever wanted a story

I found salvation there
behind where your eyes sat
and laughed at the idea
of being anywhere else.

It was not my home.

The elephants are on my desk but they live inside my heart

Idea #1 Illustrated

Weep

I can't be here alone
but please don't speak.
Just feed me words
until I'm full again
and don't feel like giving up.

I miss the way your eyes are.

Post weekend

Last night I spoke to no one
as I lay in bed
but I spoke nonetheless
and fell asleep
between sentences
to trick my mind
into thinking I was still there
and that you were there
beside me
talking back.

Weekend

We are going to laugh as hard
as the photograph
and hold hands a little
and maybe skip through green
and drink coffees
made of soy
and talk in puns
and act obnoxiously for no reason
and call each other names
that we only mean a little bit
and eat biscuits in bed
even though
eating biscuits in bed is gross,
and probably unhygienic
by some standards,
and dance for a while
in the kitchen
whilst dinner is cooking
and go to galleries
that cost no money
in top knots
and cardigans
and high tops
and each day will fall in love with us
and will be envious of the next
and we'll have one another in each
as we do always
but for a while
we'll live in each others pockets
and it will be fucking rad.

Idea #1

I have decided to stand here
with a flower in my hair
and a banner in my hands
held high above my head
which reads
'I am here'
cos you seem to be having trouble
finding me
and I want to help move this on
a little
if I can.

Cycle

I am losing my breath
face down in shallow waters
that I cannot find my way out of
and though
the water is not endless
it is deep enough
to be mightier than I
and its grip on me is tighter
than the grip I have on any bid
for freedom.
It is not new
but it is now
and I will wait
breathless
until the water freezes
with the night air
and melts away
with the sunrise
tomorrow.

A tiny change of mind

I am going to walk
through each day
from now
with my arms open
and my eyes open
knowing full well
that opportunity
multiplies
when you are ready
to receive it.

You were there

I dreamt of you
then
and I'm thinking
about you
now
and my mind is gone
because there is nothing
inside of it
but your face
and the sounds you make
when you laugh
and I want to hold your hands
as you tell me the things
you told me
whilst I slept
and you didn't know
you were there.

Things instead of other things that are probably better

I've spent my day
putting whole pink wafers
in my mouth
and singing Janet Jackson's
'Nasty'
whilst wearing a high visibility vest
and drawing felt tip hearts
on the back of a photocopy
of Marilyn Monroe
reading a book
that's bigger than her face,
when all I wanted
was to hear from you
and to start
a new conversation.

What I know for sure

If I met the me
I was in
nineteen
ninety
four
and had a moment
to tell him everything
I had learned
in the years
since being him
and becoming me
I would waste
most of that time
being distracted
by the fact that
nineteen
ninety
four
me
was wearing
shorts
over his
trousers.

Not long now

When you are back
I'm going to hold
your head
between
my hands
until Carrie
lulls us into sleep
and we wake up
to pancakes
and days
filled with empty hours
for us to do with
as we please.

You are only an ocean away
but I wish you weren't.

Only if you're staying

Do you notice when I'm sad?
Or do I play the same part
in your day to day?
A constant drip of water
that never collects
anywhere.
I miss you
and
there is nothing to run from,
still I can't sit
until you leave
if you're going to.
There is war
and
there is peace,
both of which are two sides
of the same coin
and will each come eventually
for a while at least.
I won't make a home in either.
I don't see how I can.

Advice #3

It is big
when you realise
that you are not seperate
from the one thing
that you imagine
to be holding you back
and that
you can take steps forward
in spite of it
instead of trying to
leave it behind.

What I found after

I hold up an empty glass
and toast to you
in a room that is empty
save for the pieces of you
that you left behind
when you ran away.
I was never all that you wanted
in spite of being
everything that I am
and 'thank you'
is the only thing
I can think of to say.

Dear Reader, I need your help

If, for any reason, you are even the slightest bit invested in how successfully I live my life please fill in this tiny form on your computer somehow and email me your answers to thomkofoed@ymail.com
I'm trying as hard as my mind will let me and I need your help because I don't know what else there is left to do.

                                  

A truth

My shoulders won't hang evenly
at the top of my back
and the rest of my body
is heavy with a grief
that I never recognised
until all the windows closed
and we were face to face.
My face feels differently in my hands
than it did in yours
and solitude was unwelcome
but uninterested as
it sat and told me
that its all about courage
and nothing about drive.
I'm not always sure
I have either and
I want to climb down from here
and light a candle
for each person I thought I would become
but was too weak to find the gap
between him and him
to try any harder than I did.
I am not miserable,
I am frightened
and consumed by it
entirely.

You and me

When you made life
seem straight forward
and it was clear
that there was only
one way to keep going
and that fear
was a waste of energy
and nothing else.

I expected nothing
and you gave me everything.

It was then that I realised

I want to be your champion
and breathed easy
along side you.

I don't want to be without you

As the space
between each heartbeat
widens,
and everything else slows down,
a stubborn reality
replaces your mouth
and reminds me
that my bed is empty
and my eyes
aren't seeing you
and I may as well have no sight at all
if I can't fill the gaps
with pictures
of your stomach
against my back
and your arms
around my arms
as we lay there
and you told me
that then was all you needed
and that I am your universe.

If I was brave you would love me attempt number three, illustrated

Advice #2

Perhaps I'll ride a bicycle
to the edge of the sea
and count upwards
as the waves
come ever closer
and then slink away again
to see if anything
changes at all
in the time inbetween.

I am living
and sometimes
that is enough.

The course we're on

Understand
that it is yours now
because
everything has changed
and I cannot count backwards
until its the beginning again.
I am not alright
and I am fine
and there is
nothing else to be done.

Not to be that guy, but

I have drawn her face
more than once
on a piece of paper
the size of two hands
each time changing
the size of her eyes
until they're so big
they can see all of me
in one go
and nothing else.

She's my
best friend.
I can't wait til she finds out.

Taxi for one

For Scott and Charlene, then, now, for always

It is something
to be celebrated
that you remained
covered by a love
that nobody believed in
but that grew exponentially
until even the most
cynical
amongst us
knew
that what you had
was worth more
than what you would lose
by trying
and we danced
along side you both
until days
turned into
years
and we were left celebrating
the only thing
that endured the time
between
then
and
now.

Sleeves of biscuits and casual stalking

If I could balance
each biscuit that I ate
this week
one
on top
of
one
on top
of
one
on top
of
one
it would reach
from the ground outside
your house
to the bottom of
your bedroom window
and I
would
carefully
climb
to the top of the pile
and balance there
watching
as you went about
your day to day
unaware that a man
sitting on a tower
of crunch creams
and digestives
was living something
make believe
just outside.

Two and a half seconds

I have made a home
inside of a two and a half second
episode that you are,
almost undoubtedly,
unaware even took place
and that I have favoured
with growing importance
as each second past thereafter.
I have burrowed under its surface
and lay covered by numerous
interpretations
that lead solely to an outcome
that pleases both you and I
and wait there.
Then,
it felt real
and I needed that.
If only for a two and a half second
episode
at the end of a long day
without you.

Side by side somewhere else

I saw your mouth change shape
as you turned your body
away from where I sat.
So slight was the shift
that if I hadn't spent so many days
in your company
I never would have noticed.
You changed
and I changed along side you
and knew that what I thought was,
was gone
and we were simply two people
in the same room.

There is nothing certain, only this

I took a photograph of you
then held it in my hand
and could feel your body
when you were not there
and I was resting my head
on a before
that was washed away
by waves
that left me lost.

You are my North
and there is nothing else.

Monday regret

I didn't eat eggs for breakfast
though I know I should have
because eggs are full of stuff
that make you heavy
and I don't want
to look like this anymore
if I can help it.

When it was almost what it should have been

She was wearing orange
as the sun set
over rocks that
had seen it set
more than
a thousand times before 
and changed colour
until it disappeared
and rose some place else.

To skim the surface

I am wearing a t-shirt that doesn't fit
and making lists of books that I want to read
on scraps of paper
that have drawings of faces on.
I wish it was Sunday for no reason.
I feel hollow and silly.

I watched Mystic Pizza last night.
If it was 1988 I'd be cooler than I am.

When there is only space

If it is the end
then I don't want to see you go
because I am not strong
and I am not ready
and I don't know how to say goodbye
and words don't seem enough
and words are not enough
and nothing is.
If it is time
then I will stand here
with my eyes closed shut cos
I can't start the day with you here
and end it with you gone.
I don't know how
and I'll never know how
and this wasn't enough
and it never can be
and I'm not ready
and you can't go
and you started leaving
long before now
and it doesn't matter
and it never did
and you have to stay.
You have to stay.
You have to stay.
You have to.

If I was brave you would love me, attempt number three

I could make you happy.
And if I could say
any words
when you are standing in front of me
it would be those ones.
And I'm sure that you're happy
and I know that
no one
needs
someone
to fulfil that in themselves
and I'm even inclined to believe
that looking externally for happiness
is one of the most unhealthiest
things a person can do.
It is
destructive
and
dangerous
and
eventually
destroys your inside
without you even knowing
until there's nothing left.

But I would
make you happy.

Like really happy.

The kind of happy
that makes Disney films
so nauseatingly sweet.

The kind that makes Belle
skip through streets
with baskets filled with bread
and sunshine
singing to birds and other
usually unfriendly wildlife
like boar and overprotective
mother deers
about her new love Prince Eric.
And yes I know that
Prince Eric
loves Ariel
and that Ariel 
is a mermaid
and not the only daughter
of an inventor
in a small provincial French town
and that Belle inevitably falls in
love with her own Prince who,
at the time of their initial meeting,
is under a spell which,
unfortunately for him,
means that he lives each day as a Beast
because he was incapable of love,
but details aren't important
when the kind of happy
that you and me
would be
is at stake.
In fact,
for all intents and purposes,
and to vainly try and get my point back on track,
maybe you're the beast.
And thats not to say
that you're incapable of love
because I don't doubt for a second
that your heart is filled to the brim
with a kind of love
that could quite literally
sweep me off my feet.
But maybe,
unknowingly,
you have locked your heart
inside
a metaphoric steel cage
and that you're walking
through each day,
seemingly full of the joys of Spring,
all the while unaware
that your heart is drying up.
And, no I'm not trying
to frighten you into submission
or make you second guess
for even a minute
your state of mind
which I'm sure
is absolutely tip top.
I would just like you to consider
that maybe,
just maybe
it would be worth your while
to really think about
whether or not the happiness
that you're experiencing
is really akin
to the kind of happiness
that you could experience
if we were a we.
And I know
that it sounds big headed
and that arrogance
is unattractive
in a human being
but
I could make you happy
and
I would make you happy
if I could say
any words
when you are standing
in front of me.

Last night I dreamed of you (a poem for Ivy Sullivan) Illustrated

It was then, today

There are clouds
casting shadows on the ocean
and I am with you
though you are somewhere else.
There is a grey inside your eyes
that wasn't there
when I saw you first
and your arms are by your side
and I don't know where
to put my hands
and my eyes
are looking at
my feet
cos when I look at you
I see only past
and it makes my insides hurt
and I can't hide it
from my outsides
and I don't want you to see
cos you would sink
and I don't have the strength
to pick you up
and bring you back
to a now that exists
purely to feed the needs
of an us that existed
in a then that ended
long before now. 
I am tired
and heavy
and done holding onto
an idea.

James Taylor & mucus tears

I am poorly and
listening to James Taylor
on loop,
wishing that I was he
and that I was
going to Carolina
with the secret of life
in my back pocket
instead of snotty tissues,
sitting in a call centre
feeling sorry for myself
with a heavy head
so full of mucus
that if I was so inclined,
and mucus dried
much the way plaster did,
I could plaster an entire room
with its contents
and with this it has just dawned on me
that I couldn't be further from
James Taylor
if I tried
and now I'm sad
and
congested
which we all know
makes Thom a ratty boy.

Stockard Channing and a thing that almost happened

Stockard Channing
didn't give me her autograph
but it mattered none
because when she walked past me
smelling like violets
I saw her smile before
it dissolved into stillness
and I knew she wasn't inconsiderate,
just running late.

That night, at dinner
she drank clear liquer
and told stories about '78'
that made Alexander blush
beneath that mop of hair
that he touched so often.
He was so shy.

I forget that sometimes.

I took the pack of cards
that I carry with me always
from inside my cardigan,
wrote her name
onto the back of
the Queen of Hearts
and slid it inside
the pocket of her coat.
I hoped that later,
when she got back to an empty hotel,
she'd reach for her room key
and find it there.

She didn't call or mention it again
but it mattered none
because after that night
she lived inside my heart
and I could feel her there
as I went about my days
until each one was done.

I dreamed again of light

It took only a second
for me to see
that you were there
and that you were waiting
for me to be ready
for today to be
what was intended.
I saw that
your eyes were filled
with a light
that wrapped around corners
and rested on my shoulders
and I wasn't frightened
and hours and minutes
didn't seem too big.
You were there
and the fear
that existed before
had dissapeared
with the shadows
that your light had swallowed
and I stood
and it didn't seem
impossible.

Last night I dreamed of you (a poem for Ivy Sullivan)

I bought you a ring
with a green and blue stone
and put it inside your hand.
Your hair,
blown tangled by sea winds,
hung golden beyond your shoulders.
We stood
one
in front of the
other
and waited for the afternoon
to catch up to where we were.
You smiled.
I smiled.
You held the ring tight
between your fingers.
I brushed golden light from your eyes.
With your other hand
you reached for my face
and let my cheek rest in your palm.
It was then
I understood
that we were becoming
something far greater
than just two people
standing
one
in front of the
other
and closed my eyes
for longer than a second.
I knew you had done the same.

You are thinking of me and I am thinking of you

I marched
inside your head
some time
after
we met at first,
and
before
I saw you again
and with hands filled
with colour
painted stripes
where
white was before
and stayed there
until I wasn't
just
a memory
of then
anymore.

What I can do

A sign for all seasons

I am tired.
The kind of tired
that makes driving dangerous
and the easiest of tasks
tedious
and
consuming
yet
I have spent hours
and minutes
and days
filling my eyes
and
ears
and hands
with proof
that this is more
than nothing
and though
it is easy to find signs
when you are looking
everywhere
at everything
I choose to believe
that a stranger
saying your name
to clarify
which letter of the alphabet
his car registration
starts with
is evidence
that I am on your mind
and that you too
are tired
of waiting.

Him

Already there is only half because
nothing is based on fact
despite the many hours
you have dedicated to days when you
and me are
no more than everything
disguised as strangers,
travelling towards a
happiness that you can't find alone-
other than when you are alone, thinking of
me.

If it was 1964 and I had more time than anything else

I would braid my hair,
tuck flowers behind my ears
and wear a carpet jumper,
sit on the ground
with my legs crossed
and my hands on my knees,
raising my voice for peace
and not brute force,
standing up only
to stand in the way
of those raging through
life leaving heavy footprints
on an earth that
buckles under the weight
of people
who have become numb
to consequence,
forgetting that
to tread lightly
is to tread kindly
and that that is
the most important
thing of all.

We are just two people

I can't say for certain
that I would have
stood
side by side
and told them
they were wrong
for dancing steps
laid out by
those who strode
through town
years before
throwing daggers,
staring
darkness
between the eyes
and smiling
widely
at days that never
belonged to them.
But I hope
more than
I hope
for anything else
that I wouldn't have
let minutes
idly go by
feeding the beast
until its belly
became swollen
with a venom
that would infect
not only it
but all
that it touched
as it flailed
and thrashed
and walloped
towards a death
that couldn't come
soon enough.

A little like long

For as long
as I don't turn over
my calender
I am still
pouring milk
and
eating Cheerios
in between
a life
when it was almost
and
a life
when it never was
at all.

I sleep
with the light on
bright
so darkness
never comes
and it is just
one
long
day
that doesn't end
and I'm no further
from almost
than
when it started.

Advice #1

When there is
uncertainty
it is best to stay
still
and wait
until
the air changes
the way it feels on your skin
and
you feel
like dancing
again.

Something there is

I will write
until I fall inside
a truth
that is far more
than for its own sake
and then
I will write
without
searching
because
it will
be there
already.

Almost certainly the only reason

I have drawn peace signs
onto the tips of my fingers
and pressed my hands hard
into the ground
in hopes that the earth
will turn more slowly
and that sunlight will
fill my eyes
if only
for a little while
longer.
I don't want
to be scared
and all I
need
is
time.
I'm sure
that's all it is
and I want you
to believe me.

Far from the start

In the end
I will dance
and wave
and wave
goodbye
as yet another train
takes you
some place else
away
from where I am
and I
will smile
and my eyes
will smile
and it won't be
because
you are leaving
but
because
you will be
coming back
and I can't be blue
knowing that
there is
that.

I am nowhere else

There are more
than a thousand steps
that seperate
where you are
from where I am
and
once in a while
we fall into
minutes made up
of matter
that
doesn't matter.
But
it is nothing
built upon
nothing
and I am here
and you are never alone
even
when the thousand steps
seem more
than anything else
and your eyes
see only empty.

Friday 24th

I drove one way
you drove the other
and I saw you
and my heart stopped
and your car stopped
and my car stopped
and there was a second
when I thought
that maybe you being there
and me being there
meant that maybe
you wanted to be there
as much as
I wanted you to be there
and for that second
I lived inside
another Friday
when this
wouldn't be the highlight,
only
the
beginning.

When we are strong

I'm not sure I'm strong
enough
and I'm losing my patience
and I'm waiting for you
to be here,
to really be here
and to want to build
something
in the place that we're standing.
Here
together
with what we've got already
and what we'll have if we try.
I'll colour you in
and you can colour me in
and we'll run
orange
and
red
and
blue
and
be sure
that your hand
belongs in my hand
and that is all.

Climbing nowhere

I woke up,
climbed out of bed,
cleaned my teeth,
ate toast,
drank milk,
climbed into my car,
sat behind glass
covered in rain,
drove towards a day
that would mean less
to me
than it should,
arrived,
climbed up stairs,
walked to my chair,
sat in my chair,
ate a biscuit,
closed my eyes,
imagined myself someplace else
and tried to remember
that this is not forever.

This is not forever.
This is not forever.
This is not forever.

For Julie and Ethan

I cannot shake the feeling
that I should be
walking the streets
of Vienna
wearing a hat
and eating pastries
wrapped in bags
made of paper
listening to men
playing the music
that European men play
whilst drinking beer
from bottles
made of glass
and sitting
in cafes
asking why
I never
came here
sooner.

Bedtime

That night
I spoke only of you
and fell asleep
with your name inside my mouth,
liberated
by the promise of us
and the knowledge that
it is more
to be certain of something
than to live inside skin and bones
knowing only
that you don't know
and you never did.

What I can do

I want to take
everything I have ever written
about us
and
for you
and sew each word onto a quilt
that you can lay inside
and under
when I am not there
so that you would not be
without me
even when
I was far away
waiting
for morning to come.

Sideshow

I have listened
to one song
for four days
and fallen inside
music sung by many
but only to me.
I have allowed
the sounds
to take me from
a place I shouldn't be
into a future that
could be
and have ridden
on coattails
of those who
were brave enough
to try.
And with the words
held tight in my hands
I will march
towards them all
and join the ranks
of those
who are living
the best of themselves
and will become
it
eternally.

If I had my way, illustrated

A roundabout way

I have
nothing to write
because there is only you
and I am talking to myself
hoping to find where you are
in the words
all the while knowing
that I never will
and that my attempts
are fruitless
and will continue to be so
until I am
where you are
and can end my search
by your side.

Made up of two

If I was
one
made up of two
and took steps
in unison
with another,
there would be no night
that
stretched too long
into morning
and no silence
that rendered me fearful
of living.

And
if I was lucky enough
to be
one
made up of two
with the other
being who you show the world,
I would wrap my heart
in your hands
and beat in time
with the beat
of yours.

And with each beat
I would fall further into an us
that made
being only one
the only thing
worth being
and would know
that truth exists
when one
sees the world
made up of two.

Not for one more day

I have forgiven myself
for seeing only one thing
for most of the time
and feel light again
and breathe easy
as I step
through each day,
knowing that it was you
and not I
who lived
without an open heart
and continues to do so
without me.

In the darkness, light

We cried for different reasons
that day,
surrounded
by misinterpretations
of weeks spent
in each others hands,
and then lingered there
until each candle had been blown out
and the light
was replaced
by black.
And in that darkness
your intentions became clear
and a line was drawn
beneath
who you were
and
who I thought you to be,
neither of which
were enough.

For Bea

Another door closed
on a past
that I was never a part of
and I am on the outside again
clasping onto anything
that is reminiscent
of a history
that is not my own.

And though
it never could have been
and never was
I woke up each morning
and danced
steps that
you danced
until the music stopped
and I was on my own
standing
where you stood
without you.

In the end, the beginning

There is nothing to prove
and nothing to gain from trying
because when there is
it
there is only space
everywhere else.
I fell
and do not want to get up
because
you fell beside me
and laid here
waiting for morning,
which is almost
forever
away.

It would

If ever there was a day
when the distance between us
seemed too great
and the hours too long
and the yesterdays
when you and I
were all there was
to consider
too far past
it would be today.

One single step forward
without you
seems too far
and yet
there is nothing left to do
but to keep walking
regardless.

Now it is

If you know better
and do nothing
then you are no more
than the very least of you.

And you never tried.

And now,
all I see
when you are there
is a darkness
that I didn't know
lived inside of you
and nothing else.

And it is done.

Somebody new to envy

I want what he has.
What he recorded and wrote
and walked through
each day
until night became all there was
to think about.
I want to take off my skin
and climb inside his skin
and see
minutes
the way he sees
minutes
and speak
with the sounds in my voice
that make him seem
alive
in my now and not
across ocean
and sky.
I want what he has
because what I have
isn't enough
to stop me thinking
about why he seems
to smile more often
than I do
and why what he
recorded
and wrote
and walked through
means more
to the world
than a thousand
of my days.
I want what he has
and what he sees
and I want it
today.

Even though

Because you are there
and I am here
and tonight won't match
what has come before
we should stop
when daylight
disappears from the sky
and stand,
you there
and me here,
to look at the moon.
Knowing that
you are there
and I am here
and we are doing
what each other
is doing
makes
even the longest day
away from you
nothing
but a
drop
in
the
ocean.

And

You have become more
than the sum of your parts
and I am less than mine.

And so the power has shifted.

And the days are different than they were.

And the ground on which we stood
has crumbled and become uneven
and I am looking up to you
and you have no choice
but to look down on me.

And still we walk.

And still we are together.

And still there is us.

A poem

It was a wet Sunday
when I ate buttered toast
and imagined myself free.

And I was free.

Because the reasons I found
to stay stuck
were not reason enough.

And so I ran.

If I had my way

If I had known
that then wasn't always
I would have put
each word you spoke
carefully between
pieces of tissue paper
inside boxes
on shelves
in my room
so that now
when you are not here
I could take them down
and out
and live
in a different now
made up of befores
with you.
Again.

Do you not remember what we had

I sat there
with one foot in the past
and left a record that I was searching 
for days that were bigger than I.

Took deep breaths
in an attempt to fill myself with air
and float above
what I know I cannot hold onto endlessly.

When music plays you should sing
and if you get to choose
always run towards arms
that are open.

And keep looking,
be willing
and know for sure
that I am here,
searching with you.

If there is each other
then we already have everything.

Because it is you

Sweet is the sound of you
and you are all that I hear
as I go about my day
eating custards creams
and watching cars.

And my steps are heavy
each time I walk
the long way round
farther from you,
and wait once again
for you to follow.

Each minute only seems
like one minute
if each one of those
was made up of ten.
I am taunted
by passing time
passing slowly.

And still I wait.

Because it is you.
It is always you.

How I see it

Each line that I write is a rope
that is tied to an anchor
in the middle of everything else.
I will stare at the sun
until the light obscures what I see
and alters the steps that I take
so that each line I write
will become a rope
that is tied to fighting chance.

And I will walk
with a souvenir in my hand
of what it once was
and
will be silenced only by death
and not the fear
that what I say is meaningless.