faker

you don't miss her.
clearly.
and there are no words.
she writes anyway.
but there is nothing left to say.

just a tired apology that spins over and over
on a broken record.

a sigh of vinyl and we're nowhere new.
calendars marked up in hope
are only scars on her wall.

nobody can make it go away
because the cause was incomplete.
and you didn't get it.

she knows. she knew.
she just wishes it were different.
but that would make everyone different.
because they make it this way.

and she is so tired of being vague.
and she just wishes you would at least even the playing field.

guilt is ten times worse than sadness.
and she's got a bad case of both.
but you don't care enough to help her.
you didn't care.
and you don't miss her.
clearly.

--MRS 8/30/08

sochelle crab?

so she believes in it.
so what?
it is not what you said.
never what you said.
it's logical. sensible.
still lovely and ridiculous.
but practical.

revisions of older days,
in hindsight, unwise.
with today and with right now,
not a great idea.

but an idea, nonetheless.

---MRS 8/24/08

there can't be this much oil, can there?

this is not where I will break.
I cannot slip out of my sheets of comfort and family to simply fall apart.
I am needed. I am not narcissistic.
I cannot be missed.
nobody can be missed.
some doors will stay locked forever because their keys broke.
to risk it,
to put myself out there,
it is one thing.
to say I shall not perish.
that is another.
I will not fight.
we can not fight.
fire fuels fire and you’re letting it breathe
but still, calm waters can erase the ashes.

MRS 7/28/08

in the back of her mind, the end was inevitable.
her subconscious failed to warn her that she would be standing in a crumbling well.
however, her awareness changed, possibilities came into focus.
it’s no secret or lie that she’s erring.
your presence to raise the broken wings increase the pain that she already knows.
she needs you to need what she needs.
believe that this failure is not like an end she still seeks.

MRS 7/29/08

spectrum ends with little color between
where I ran on the “8,” you are jumping into a third.
will you anticipate? expect what may come?
my art shall refuse to disclose it to you.
some souls must do their own work.
this one yearns to travel with an hourglass to you.
allow it to tail the greater soul.
I will face what distracted me from rectitude.
one will aid in the picture if you only paint in the words.
the ashes themselves prevent framing the work.
so please build an encasement with oil paints
I promise to guard your faithful carpentry.

MRS 7/30/08

i have one more.