Cool hands embrace tense chins,
wishing they could heal broken hearts and
quite trouble minds.
With history repeating itself,
early morning writing sessions have not
released the pain and spikes piercing
though empty “I love you’s” have left you … hollow.
The holy needs the sins of another to be washed away.
I sleep next to you,
my cold hands pressed to your
tough temples and I tell you
“ Letting go won’t be painful and I will reach
into your hell and store your nightmares in
my womb for a little while until they
mature into air light dream.
Carrying memories of when you were happy.
Since your mind is so focused on haunting
you I don’t mind if you rest in mine for a while.
Fell the warmth of the sun on your skin,
squish sand in between your toes and
watch love hues peek over horizons and
listen to the winds,
for they are singing a song welcoming you home.
I know that you have been left for dead in loves
aftermath but let these hands revive you.
Hold you between rib cages until your heartbeat
finds its melody again. I want nothing more than
for you to be happy, but it seems like you have
settled to walk this life’s journey alone.
But going alone is not your only road home.
Building bridges to your heart has not been
easy but I keep bricks and mortars on standby
just in case you decide the burn the
work that we have done.
You cut down Rapunzel’s hair like her
strength was not enough for you.
You are looking for perfection
in this imperfect world.
You life is mirroring death in so
many ways that you are scarring me.
This is hurting me to believe that
this was not meant to be. I see that man that you
were trying to be: holding your wife’s and children’s hand,
making retirement plans and all the while
just being happy to be your own man.
I wish I could dream for you.
So you can see what I see in you.
I wish I could take throse rose
colored glasses off,
so you can see that
I am still here with cold hand,
trying to show your were home is.