Last known Photo

17 years ago
In an attempt at bribery
My parents bought me a puppy.
A motivation to stop screwing up.
The first night,
I slept on the linoleum floor of our New York kitchen with him, and we both whimpered a little--
He because he missed his mom, surely.
At the time, I didn't know why I was sad, but in 8th grade, who does?
That night we made a deal:
If I would hold him, he would listen.
This morning, all of my secrets died with my loyal confidant.

There is nothing poetic about endings.
There is only the scraping sound of unraveling twisted metal cable.

Location:Seaview Ave,Jamestown,United States

Warning reduced to Watch

Despite warnings, there was no flood.
No damage, save for a twinge of sadness,
mourning only the wasted time spent unwisely
on a heart not worth loving.
I will, as always, be the one dancing, smiling, being brave.
You will forever be standing still on a dance floor in my mind
Avoiding my eyes, and letting your fear stop you
From living a life you won't regret.
That's why I left you, after all.

When I attempt to rise higher,
I think about what I have learned since we parted.
I have had my heart torn apart,
And I was so filled with anger...
Until I did the same to someone else.
It was then that I realized
That sometimes people are the casualty,
when we need someone to care about us.
Empathy comes only from life experience, and that is actually what they mean,
when they say
that time heals all wounds.
It is not the distance in the rear view mirror that allows forgiveness,
but a shared experience of humanity, of flaws, of mistakes.
I don't think you've ever hurt anyone.

I hope you get the chance
to break someone's heart.
So that when you're 80,
and taking inventory of your heart, you realize what matters-
Here's hoping I'm still alive.

Here Comes the Flood - Part Two

Here i am now, in cooler, unfamiliar climate --
With calmer winds that no longer have the strength to lift me off my feet,
carry me away to something new,
again and again.
With all valuable things tethered to something unmoving,
and thus protected,
I find myself, again, preparing for the rush of water that comes with impending flood.
The lines of such constant rising, receding
show clearly in the space between my eye and ear -
 permanent marks of change, that cannot be scrubbed away.
Evidence of brackish tide  strong current survived, if barely.

 On shore, as the water rises slowly, nodding to the filling moon,
I lick the back of my salty palm, remove a layer of white.
As if to travel backward to a place
where I did not have this protective coating 
where skin was young, more vulnerable, but braver.
 The veins present and protruding are new, though.
This is not the same hand that shakes
at the thought of your silence
where it meets my attempt at a proper ending.
 And so two years later,
at another wedding of friends,
where I will once again stand facing the crowd that you occupy,
I will do things differently.
Show myself what I have learned. 
Stand straightened, knowing in my heart that it is right to want endings, and peace. 
Send you nothing but a message of kindness,
that one day you may be able to stand tall enough to want that, too.