For the first time,
in a long time
I'm not the rock that's stuck
in the middle of the river
brooding over the water
flowing down around
For the first time
in a long time
I am the water
flowing down, ocean-bound,
to a place it has never seen
a home it never knows exists
It wasn't that easy to break,
the heart
It wasn't giving up so easily
on love
Breaking it over and over again
didn't break its spirit
its hope
So it had to be broken
the way it was broken
by Love
for it to give up like this
on love.
The hopeless romantic,
gagged and bound,
locked up in the basement
is scratching love poems
under my feet
on her ceiling
Two sides of the same coin
I wish it flipped
so she can come up here,
trade places with me
Once upon a time
her basement was mine
Me her prisoner, and she, my queen
I love her enough
to willingly lock myself up again
Let her rule
Let her build a world
and destroy it if it comes to that
than listening to her
breaking her nails
scratching away her love,
her pain, her hopes,
my conscience
in these silent, holy nights
But she'd have to wait.
The rose-colored glasses lay on the ground
cracked, slightly, still functional,
and with it, the unrealistic enthusiasm.
The last blow was the last:
No more bending over backwards
to pick them up.
No more desperate attempts
to peek at the world
through a monochromatic distortion.
My stubborn spine refuses to bend
like it used to, to the whim of love and lovers
My stubborn neck refuses to look
over my unburdened shoulders
to brood over a past that exists no longer.
The world in its true multitude of hues
lies ahead for the naked eye to embrace.
The wind blowing through the madrones,
oaks, Douglas furs, the redwoods
sounded like the ocean waves
thrashing on the eroding Californian cliffs
The fire crackling in the night
in front of a tent
in Oppenheimer on a big screen
sounded like water
poured down from a height
on to a cement floor.
What would I spend my time on
if I'm not spending it on love?
What else would I look for
if I no longer look for love?
Where would my dreams take me
if I'm not dreaming about love?
What would I do with my life
if I'm not sacrificing it for love?
The tight laces tied back
holding the guards
that are up
like tall walls looming
over and around my heart
are coming undone tonight.
With a finger's pull
the laces loosen
the walls move farther
the cage of ribs fills up with air
conquering space, expands
and my heart leaps forth
through my breasts
like an untamed horse
through the ocean parted.
