Walking the Tightrope.

Welcome to the circus…

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I decided to join the circus

Because it seemed like it would be fun.

The people were said to be magic;

The atmosphere was a loaded gun.

“I’m running away to the circus!”

I told both my parents with a grin.

They warned me to be oh so careful,

And make it back home to them again.

I wanted to learn how to juggle,

To walk a tight-rope and breathe fire.

I was lusting for an adventure;

Of magic I would never tire.

I never expected the falling,

The bruises, and the burns on my face.

I should have known right then and there

That the circus was not a safe place.

But the Ring-master was so charming,

And the old lions gave me no fright,

So I practiced walking the tight-rope,

Despite my growing fear of the height.

Confidence was like a second skin,

That I wore every time I’d rehearse.

Though what I did was nothing special,

There were certainly acts that were worse.

Time came for the circus to open;

I held my breath along with the crowd.

The glitter of the lights was too bright,

The cacophony of noise too loud.

My friends told me I shouldn’t go on,

And I should have heard their warning bell,

But I still went out on that tight-rope,

And I fell, and I fell, and I fell.

Hungover.

He came into my life like vodka…

He came into my life like vodka—

It was all too much, too fast, too soon.

His lips tasted like a Jell-O shot,

And I ended up drunk before noon.

But now a bitter sun has risen,

And my lover could no longer stay.

It will take so much more than Advil

To make this hangover go away.

Tiptoe.

“You will lose each other…”

“You will lose each other.”

We panic and we flail.

No, this cannot happen—

The loss would haunt us both.

Our ache is ancient;

Our story is not new.

We have loved too deeply,

And for not long enough.

So we devise a plan:

He and I will tiptoe,

And whisper “I love you”

Where no one can hear us.

We will keep still and calm,

And try our very best

Not to wound each other

With any careless words.

But we would be wounded,

And the loss would haunt,

Because for every laugh

That the two of us shared,

There would be a tear shed,

And an angry bruise formed.

We were greedy, you see—

Greedy for each other.

There was never enough…

Time, kisses, private jokes.

I swear our friends could tell;

Warning was in their eyes.

We did not know it then,

But we would destroy this.

Somewhere along the way,

The foundation rotted.

We panicked and we flailed,

And then the floor gave out.

The dust hasn’t settled;

It hangs there, suspended.

This burden is weighty,

But I bear it alone.

You once called this fate.

DOES IT FEEL LIKE FATE NOW?

We have loved too deeply,

And for not long enough.

Bonnie and Clyde.

Ride or die…

How to describe you and I?
We are two truths and a lie,
An are-you-kidding-me sigh,
A we-both-lost kind of tie.
I’m the Bonnie to your Clyde,
A let’s-get-out-of-here ride,
A scrape-across-the-shore tide,
A lost-my-footing downslide.
You’re a wreck less wrecking ball,
An I-can’t-talk-right-now call,
A please-do-not-leave me crawl,
A there’s-no-net kind of fall.
How to describe you and me?
We’re an I-can’t-hear-you plea,
A drown-your-love kind of sea–
And we will never be free.

The Spider and the Fly.

There was a spider…

Once, there was a small spider

Who lived in a mine that had caved.

It sat patiently watching

Little flies that would not be saved.

It spent its days in the darkness,

Among so much ruin and rot.

But something isn’t right here;

This isn’t what you might have thought.

The spider wasn’t evil,

The fly was not nothing but dumb.

It caught itself in the web,

And the venom made it go numb.

This fly had once been called good,

Wonderful, and clever, and bright.

But something had gone quite wrong;

It wandered away from the light.

Out came the spider, with stealth,

Eyes looking so earnest and kind.

They fancied each other friends,

But how could they both be so blind?

Their truce was not meant to last;

It was little more than a lie.

The fly wounded the spider,

And the spider wounded the fly.

Bleeding, they scurried away,

Each trying to clean up the mess.

All the old, good things now hurt;

It wasn’t the same, I’ll confess.

We can’t undo what we’ve done,

Though we’ll both continue to try.

Now I must ask you, truly:

Am I the spider or the fly?

I Lied.

I said I didn’t love you, but I lied.

I said I didn’t love you, but I lied.

Between head or heart, how could I decide?

I confessed my woes, and you simply sighed;

The timing of all this had not complied.

You didn’t scorn me as I cried and cried.

I had fallen so hard, and you had tried

To let me know that you were on my side—

Even now, after this affair has died.

I’ll think of you when all this blood has dried,

When I no longer feel the need to hide.

I wish that I could take this all in stride,

But the oceans of my regret are wide.

For my sake, you have swallowed up your pride,

And accepted the pain I feel inside.

Your heartstrings and mine will always be tied;

I said I didn’t love you, but I lied.

The Sea.

The sea is a ravenous beast…

The sea is a ravenous beast;

It cares not for whom it swallows.

There will be no refuge from it—

Not in crannies, nooks, or hollows.

The sea is a monstrous thing;

Pays no heed to what it consumes,

Surges when you least expect it,

And on my horizon, it looms.

The sea is a covetous fiend;

It reaches with icy fingers.

I’ve begged for it to leave me be;

Months have passed, and still it lingers.

Your smile is like the thunder,

And your memories are haunting me.

Your fists are like the crashing waves,

And oh, your love is like the sea.