it wears me out

so i dissapear, but i am in the air,
i breathe your name, and you swallow the Pain from my eyes.

you asked for my blood, take it across your face, wipe it away with the white of your sleeve,
stain your collar with my grief,
bright in contrast to my Soul, i am blinded by white against white, white against me.

together we journey through all the words hidden under our nails,
hidden in our very hands, escape this, and write it down, write me down;

he comes to my bed and places his hands on my skin,
on my stomach, pulls back the Rape(s) and dances with the salt of my tears years past,
years written in pain across this body.


some nights i sit among myself, gather myself around myself and write with my body,
write with my senses, and cry, and i cry.

in anxiety rich with tears unspilled i am abandoned. i am burned.

yesterday i was in the sun, (in the sun, in the sun) i was there,
i came home and took my clothes off and caught the glow of a sunburn
against my skin, like pain, like a bright joy, there on my shoulder,
and i felt overwhelmed with Life, taken to my knees by Life,

i am real. i am real. i can burn. i can renew. i can bleed. i am real. i burn.

i burn, i perish, i go.




i can take a song and wrap my Soul around it, wrap my body around it,
and dance like air would dance if it were tangible,
if we could touch it, hold it,
i can take love and breathe it, i can hold it in my hands and kiss it's burning center,
i can see God in every person i meet, and he smiles at me, and i know.




that is my innocence being returned to me through song, through love, through air, and through God.


and i dance away.


i dance because i am never relevant, never real, just as i breathe, but you dont truly know,
you cant believe until you see my breath write on windowpanes, until you feel that burn;
dangerous caress.

even then you cant know, you still have nothing in your hands.

you have only the whisper of a breath that danced with yours.

so sad it's God, so sad it's blood in my mouth, so sad it becomes relevant to me.

Haunting, as always, Blue.

I have read so many of your creations that show me the depth of grief and despair.

I hope only someday to read equally as moving words about joy and acceptance. Writing when you feel good may help to empower you past some of the not-so-good times.

All I can say is that I am very moved by your words so full of pain. I too hope as Deb has said that writing when you feel good will help you through the bad times.

Deb & Elinor

thank you for reading, and for your words, i appreciate it.

but, i dont write about sunshine and butterflies; i write to heal,
it is my therapy, and my catharsis.

so, i write from experience. i write about all of the black in my life so i can breathe.

But Blue:

My point is that one day I hope you write about being healed. If you can create such vivid pictures out of something ugly, imagine what you could do with something beautiful.