None of the changes go unnoticed.
The selfie, the selfless, the social lonely.
Nothing to indicate even a maybe,
watching, not watching, but watching you lazy.

Wandering, this lazy eye,
the one that prompts a painful sigh,
the one that wishes well whatever,
whatever circumstance for better,
whatever makes a now from never,
whatever makes this weight a feather.
Whatever puts my love together.

anything, but quietly.

None of this directly seen.
Rarely caught acknowledging.
The little longing from the lazy,
the eye that wanders woefully.
the heart it floods forever lasting,
patiently awaiting me.

I can see the flesh that covers,
all the horror death discovers.
and I can see the underneath,
jawbone holding yellow teeth.

and I can see the end you hasten.
from the poison that you take in.
medicine for melancholy,
suffering without the sorry.

clacking bones devoid of rhythm,
sharp impacts of bad decision.
someday seems to be today,
the skeletons dance anyway.

it begins in the morning. here. or there.
I dodge two small running bodies on the way to the kitchen,
“okay, what do you boogers wanna eat today?”
more running. I hear a giggle.

I am startled by my cell phone ringing.
“Tuesday, 6:45 PEE-EM. dad. write it down. ugh where’s Rebecca? she’ll remember”
quit being a snot. I got this.
I see two small eager faces watching me.
step-brothers coming to visit means toys and getting away with everything.

you walk in rubbing your eyes.
good morning loves.
it never gets old.

I watch you like a teenager in a nightclub.
I will remember what it felt like to think I lost you every single day.
holding you is winning a lottery I didn’t know existed.

I sneer and suggestively stare at your ass.
I raise my eyebrows comically.
subtle and ridiculous.
you must really love me.
the boys eat.

we planned this day a few weeks ago.
a short getaway.
just the two of us.
I might get you pregnant again.
you laugh.
but I really might.

the house becomes a whirlwind of toys and legos for a few hours.
we get everything ready.
“be good boys for grandma and grandpa”
after all.
it is our honeymoon.

this would be our third this year.
we are always planning our honeymoon.
we have been married a few years now.
I’m looking forward to our honeymoon tonight.

we aren’t dropping them off until 4.
that leaves a few hours.
“alright, it’s time you boys learned about kickball”
everyone loves kickball.
we play tiny kickball.

“it’s a surprise” you tell me.
later.
we have our bed and breakfast reserved.
but here we are.
in the middle of nowhere.

there’s a pond nearby.
brackish water rippling quietly.
you walk away from me.
“baby, what are you doing?”
you sit down.

you gently pump your legs.
it isn’t a bench at all.

you take something out of your bag.
“you look thirsty”
I kiss you.
I know what this is.
“I love you”
you squint at me.
“are you certain?”

we hold each other.
pumping our legs the whole while.
just high enough to make the creak concern us.
and we tumble off together.

we become animals.
a ball of heat and sweat.

I wash my face.
you pee.
switch.

we have so much to do tomorrow.
we spoon.
my hands are on your boobs.
I told you.
I will never stop fondling you.
I promise.

“is this real?”
yes.
somewhere this is actually happening.
you laugh.
“what do you mean somewhere?”
I kiss you again.

it doesn’t matter.
not here.

we have so much to do.

this is what we all do.
whether quietly internalizing,
or yelling, screaming, criticizing.
this is what we all do, even you.

the stream of things of little sense.
the thing we label consciousness.

the soup we stir of long psychosis,
boiled down to one prognosis.

end itself of all of self.
the race we run as someone else.
that other thing that wasn’t you.
that person that you hardly knew.

but it could have been.
and it will be.
so mourn the now that echoes empty.

and know that soon enough it can’t be.
lost to living years you can’t see.

I wonder why you smile sometimes.
Surrounded by what shouldn’t be.
Not all that comes of fate unraveled,
belongs upon the midden heap.

Lovely bits of life leftover,
left to love when love is bolder.
Knowing better comes with older,
even though it knows no better.

feeling is not knowing ever.
stolid through the nasty weather.

waves that crash against together,
(insert hyperbole ‘forever’)
leave again, no, not that never.
I would not survive the clever.

I could not make the excuse,
of hurt that ties a gentle noose.
of necks that nuzzle near the nothing,
somehow finding sometimes something.
curling into lovely loving.
feel the sudden warmth against me.
curse the day that says it can’t be.

in the meantime I will sleep.
to my counsel I will keep.
for all but one.
these words are cheap.
one day, this, you may delete.

but just this.
right here is okay to start.
if it doesn’t line up.

what a surprise to see you dear,
still, so far, yet somehow near.
what a surprise to feel alive,
to know that something strong survived.

fancy that, the flights of fancy,
take me to the you I can’t see,
fly me to a place that can’t be,

wanting full but ever empty.

ever empty, always dreaming.

holding on to precious feeling,
holding on to precious you.
what this is, is nothing new,
I’d just like
to see it through

we all wish for second chances.
often tied to failed romances.
a wish for change and sudden shift,
some of us just want a bit,
miniscule,
just one decision.
a teeny tiny self revision,
math that solely sells addition,
change that comes with one condition.

perhaps, this life can flex enough,

to allow this dream of us.

come on love. stop it. just stop.
let’s quit asking for jesus,
even he wouldn’t believe us.

how much have you suffered?
do you think he would bother?
if weighed against all of the awful you offered.
but let’s not pretend the fiction gives better,
I also enjoy all the maybe turned never,

The devil is laughing so soon in my ear.
Google the phrase if nothing is clear,
guess if you can, who you are now my dear,
very rarely,
revulsion.

worse yet.
a memory of something powerfully someone.
..or, someone.
powerfully something.

the you. you. try. to minimize,
shallow when you close your eyes,
the shadow left.

worse yet.

no innocence a fire met.
nothing, nothing, nothing yet.
no love that levels logic loudly,
no someone giving something soundly,

no hope.

for love called intuition.

no hope.

for someone something, listen.

no nature there,

I couldn’t hear it.

no aching you.

I couldn’t bear it.

It’s a common thing, those facebook posts.
I won’t capitalize.

You know the ones that I mean.
The pictures of generic things,
that tell the glowing world you’re crazy,
born of defect, but never lazy.

Share what’s shared and shared and shared,
you must see distinctive there.
you may have a different view.
of these things I’m telling you.

of bleeding.

not feeling. or needing.
just dreading the tearing and pain of awareness.

of knowing the awkward ignoring emotion,
I see you have loved ones, so how could you know this?
I’m screaming in letters to make myself clear.
how could you love like you do without fear?

You can fall in love with sounds.
A voice for instance.
A tone.
A certain pitch.
average comfort left unmeasured.

I can still hear yours.
Surprising bass from fragile beauty.
Laughter heard from anything.
A heavy rattle ringing softly.

Say it more to reassure me.
Look at me and say you love me.

Breathe me in from narrow folds,
feel the animal unfold.
realize everything was false.
..and perhaps she was just a poor substitute, for you.

It is not better to know what could be,
versus the nothing that currently is.
Circle carved in the box before me,
Finding that all of the pieces fit.

Cleverly edit the sorrow from solace,
Edges of error soon sanded away.
Smoothing the other, the other that bruises,
Shoving the spherical soul in place.

Shoveling while shoving the dirt that accumulates,
Tossing and pushing the harder self heavyweight,
Hoping the better you pushes through anyway,
Pausing a minute…. to just take a break…

To catch a breath, that’s it.
that’s it.