287: hazel

your eyes are deep and clear like planets
with forests and deserts no one dared to touch
and i want to explore them, leave my heavy footprints in the sand and dunes of the widest beaches
and break those mall twigs that get in my way, my pitiful path in the green towards that field i know of.

i know if because when i climbed the mountain side i looked back,
laughing,
and saw that peaceful grass smile back at me,
calling my name in its gentle whispers like a song (one that i still remember).

it is there i built my house from trees i cut, and mud that i stole from the roots of that shine.
it is in this house that i will wake every day to your smiling lips and crisp eyes,
i am certain of it.
and it is on this hard bed of rocks i will look into them,
recite this quiet poem, while i watch myself destroy
through your glass planet eyes.

286: for a friend

i don't think i could ever live again.
i've swallowed this and regurgitated and forced myself to swallow it again.
your words choke me at the base of my throat,
i just want to let it go, take a deep breath and release it into my fleshy lungs,
i've grown tired of the feeling of collapsing organs.

but you won't let me,
and i know i won't let myself, not that easily, to feel the regrowth of my ribs,
arms twisted around, fingers crawling up my spine, fixing each and every crack.

no, i can't, i don't know how,
i was never taught how to fight. i want to try it for myself,
taste the first bursting cell, first black blood (although i already know perfectly what it would be like).

so no, my friend, i will not pull myself up with the help of your body this time,
i haven't yet figured out how. i can feel that breeze, and to be honest,
i don't think i could ever live again.