It’s the sign of our times.
A man’s word is as good
As forked lightning in the sky.
It lights up lives
And it can probably extinguish one.
And we all try
To photograph the moment
Only some succeed.
Those with excellent technology.
And a penchant
For retaining vows.
But is it the sign of our times
That lightning is a rare thing
A quick thing
That burns, illuminates
And is gone?
Captured somewhere in print.
And broken bodies.
Or is it true of promises
Of just your kind.
I took his hand, while drifting on the shore,
He mistook the shallows for the ocean.
His youth found the beauty in all the lore,
Caressing the anchor, devoid of motion.
My captain stood against a want and need,
To protect him from what must lay ahead:
Shattered lessons of betrayal and greed,
Of weighed down dreams, upon an ocean bed.
What he does not know now need not be known…
But when landlocked safety is rejected,
I‘d have to take what I myself have grown,
And sail to the deep and the dejected.
When waters roar and his eyes froth with fear,
I wish enough remains to pull him near.
it feels like someone is sitting on my chest
and the panic is like a wet cloth pressed on my nose
and eyes
and mouth
and i cannot breathe
some would think i am a seeker of
drama
and some would think i need to be crowned with a tiara
some would tell me brave it out,
this is just another test.
but i know this feeling
it happened when i was cheated on
it happened when my mother was diagnosed with cancer
it happened when i lost a child
it descends like a dementor from azkaban
i feel its mouth on mine
and i cannot remember any light
not a single memory of a smile
but there is this world reeling, reeling, reeling.
preventing any entry of hope or of healing.
Hearts Still Care 
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