All that I have become exits somewhere, in someones thoughts, without my shadow cast upon it, and without their reflection I indulge, selfish thoughts - a life as they remember me and not by the way they see me. I have a past that I long for and it will greet me one day, one time and from then my days will be counted.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to you who stays at a distance and drew me into wonder about you.

Today, there is a heat within me that won't engage my well honed skills at falling into sleep, but this cursive, molten, heat traces the simple, familiar route I know only too well. Liquid fire runs about my arms and pools at my shoulders before flushing into my chest only to ring my hips. Black cores, white, orange dust, slow and dripping away from its run, yet follows without venting, this useless brine, this aggressive tide burns its way back around again.

Heavy his rake struck the back of my shoulders, against the grain, baring deep it laid my flesh curled over, rare, a twinning field of open ground, he spits his slag for late embers. I have greater pain now then the last fifteen floods and it will never cool, not without the dragons laughter nor his fogs of salt.

The Love They Take.

I could never understand dreams, but at times awoke close enough to them, so close that almost believing was apart of the last moment. I felt my dreams at times showed strength, flight and escape. As far as love goes, I believe there is real love in the world, not prideful love of the young, but needful, wanting love. I have not been closer than a meteor to a partner in too many years to honestly remember, and, even though I am certain I will be alone for the rest of my life, I will forever raise my wonderful son, and miss the days hurtfully, painfully that I spent raising my other sons and daughters because I was close enough to show them how I feel about them taking my love. If it could be understood by all who lose the feel of giving love, not just expected love, but the love you see them take. To not ever have love again, nor share the strength, happiness and reassurance I had drawn from it, then I am without.

Help me

I am all but trying to release these words that have written themselves away, yet all the while, long forgotten battles remain lost and stood only to fall. Bloodless and bent at the hips, stooped and folded in at the shoulders with my fists softened, crested into the dust my last marks on my heart lest a care shall those embers ever glow.

When is time?

When is time going to be?

If I could...

If I could, I 'd scrape the inflammation from my bones and chip away at the embers alight in my joints with a hammer and long nail, pack under my skin so much ice a heart couldn't melt. This would hurt me less, less than asking for time put back into my life, much less than asking for - love. I haven't forgotten, nor could I.