Yes glad you found your favorite person, these things are important

 

That doesn’t make the moonlight coy

    Not near the beach, where lovers come to sit on sand or rocks and gaze

 

I don’t have to sit alone, he tells me

     And tall tallness blocks the sometimes glaring sunset

        That’s nice at least

 

Hats always come back down

           Just not always where you thought they might

You can’t hold ‘em to nothing they say

                                                                    Or said

 

Hearts and hats behave the same

   Do what they damn well please

        Will be damned

 

No one drove the shipwreck

                                                  It just crashed

 

I treasure freedom

Cry kaleidoscopic tears

Am reborn

Even without you I am made anew

All of the greenery rejoices

Flowers bloom instead of me

We both stand tall, across a wide river that got wider, I don’t know how

As long as all the world knows what no one knows

 

I sew patiently at my torn heart

Keeps splitting open but i keep sewing

Music plays on lazy repeat in my mind

Dulls my needle

 

Old songs sung so masterfully they conquered time, I thought

But

His hand is not in mine

Even now

 

So very often in hers, he’s found his fav

Yea it’s not me but what else ain’t fucking new

I can see in her eyes how she looks at him, I see very well

Roland taught me

How to look

 

Hear me very well dear girl; Nothing Is Promised

Keep Watch! Watch and be vigilant!

Sharp call of September till stunning rebukes of November and stinging aching since

 

I am a creature of touch, gently I lean heavily on my massage table

    For I know some secrets of gravity, breath

Bodies heal with touch; did you know?

I asked for yours and I never ever ever ever ask

Always offered up, free without request

 

But NO, no it’s a fly trap

Which becomes the coyness of the moon, going around one more time

I would never rejoice at the unwanted capture of any being, much less a winged one

I have so many words for love, none at all for releasing

All the churchyard left behind

But a small bell

We’ll avoid all discussion of that

 

You called me cruel

I begged you into my bed, your refusal grudgingly melts into love songs calling me cruel

Laughing alone, spitting out bitterness, I crawl into ice cold sheets

 

Irony isn’t dead -- it’s on fire

Instead of staying brunette pretty up in the tower bestowing flowers upon the tournament field, 

like I was supposed to,

I kicked up quite a racket climbing clumsily down the stones unto the grassy part

   In a long ripped gown

      With my white crown

In front of a stadium of peering beady eyes primed for treachery

 

to hand to you a bloody, cracked sword 

I took 

from the fallen unfaithful

 

Odd

How you wouldn’t take it