Not Welcome

If my heart were a house; you would no longer be welcome.

I once gave you the key to this house, this heart that had a place for you.

I have since changed the locks to this house, your key is no longer any good; your words won't open the door.

This home to my soul no longer has a place for you.

I'm not sorry to say, you are no longer welcome here.

music

This is the music that moves; curve; the sound that envelops your body in the way only your most intimate lover could; jive; the tempo that your body knows, like a fundamental constant of nature.

Containment

I fight the urge; the raw power and emotion almost overwhelm me; I have resolve; this feeling in me that boils like a pot of water but has the volatility of a volcano; the destruction; I want to warn people in its path; I want to help myself; I don't see a solution; or rather inevitably there is only one solution; a singular conclusion; not containment; such an environmental event could not be controlled; too unstable; the properties can not be calculated; uncertainty; an attempt to process the unknown; unsuccessful.

ink

I write on this page soaked from the tears that I cry. The ink runs down the page and as it does it writes these words I speak.

Firefly

The number of times you cross my mind in a day could not be counted with all the stars in the nights sky. One of those lights, a firefly, uncatchable; reminding me ever so much of you. So reserved and inner kept from things that matter. I suppose in that regard, I know I matter; an inference from an observation are what keep me going. Such a small strand, yet I hold on so strongly with only it. A man overboard in a raging sea that tries to pull me away; I stay a float with only my hope as a life jacket. I wish you'd pull me in, I wish you'd save me. You tell me that I'm not the other half you want and with the ease at which those words come to mind, the air from my hope filled life jacket escapes. Lost at sea with my firefly to guide me. The night sky fades, the stars starting to disappear; the words seem to get clearer and more distinct as the thoughts of you limit. I want to say them but who is there to hear me; I want you to hear me, but you're not listening now.

Scene

I think…
It’s difficult to let your guard down.
It’s so easy to have a shield up.
This tremendously thick wall.
It blocks out everything, though.
I don’t feel anything from behind this wall.
I’m numb to the world around me.
I think I’m wrong, I don’t ever open up.
What I show the world is exactly what I want it to see.
A window to a scene that I’ve set up for the world to see.
Those places that I’m open, I’m not open at all.
I’ve just built a wall around that place as well.
I don’t know how to open up.
Scrape away at this wall until I can get out.
This moment, right here.
This is no scene.

Outside Of Me

I don’t know how to describe these layers that I’ve now shed off. These layers that were once filled with dreams of you.

Once absorbed with all you had to offer, and worn in such a wonderful manor. Now laying there, on the floor.

It hurt so much to get them off, in denial they were torn off and pulled from me. Now laying there, on the floor.

Asked to attach them again, glue them back on with your words. Words which were filled with such joy but they seem so empty. Now laying there, on the floor.

These empty words will not hold these layers. They are so heavy and full from all the time spent with you. Instead they are now laying there, on the floor.

I want to remember them, these layers, but they’re laying there, on the floor.

I reach out to touch them, these layers but I can’t. I’m laying there, on the floor.

I am these discarded layers, just laying there, on the floor.