November '09

Find me.

I’m catching petals from

The sky and tossing them

Behind with laughter, but

In the hopes that you’ll

Follow me, follow them.

Find me.

Find me,

Please

Because I am following

Behind too, following the scent

Of flowers, and getting confused

With who is me and who is you,

Where you begin and I end,

Where I begin and you end,

Where I am.

I am scattering rose petals and

Laughter on the wind as I lose

The way, and you, and me, and

Make a way for you and me to

Find me. I feel like Pearl,

Giggling and wanting and

Dancing, and shrieking, but

We have not sinned, so

What truth am I making?

I smell rose petals, see

Them fall, feel them

Between my fingers as I toss

Them to the wind, but

I don’t know where I

Am, where me is, only

You and I know.

Searching the darkness with

A flickering candle

Who is the candle? You or me?

Who is the searcher? You or me?

Who is wavering?

I can’t see. J

One together or two apart.

Is there one of us to be and one of us to think?

Where do we end? We don’t. We just are.

Or so it seems to me.

As if part of me is always somewhere with you.

Funny that. It’s never happened to this extent before,

But

I think you know that.

　

Some things I will never forget. J

Sometimes I ask you to breathe,

And it seems

A funny thing to ask.

But it’s true,

I am afraid.

The place of sunshine inside me

Wanes and fades

And shines and flares

With each breath in and out,

And the breaths

The breaths

Are not my own.

Are not my own to breathe.

Part of my still shivers,

As each breath trails across the

Nape of my neck.

Because I remember,

Remember,

The pain of rejection,

But also the joy of acceptance,

The joy, the joy,

Of love.

Hahaha, of love?

Of Love.

A question asked.

Who loves me?

Few.

I think. I’m not sure.

I know my family cares for me, but…

They … do not… show it

Very… it’s difficult.

Difficult to explain.

All the thorns and strangling vines

Around the relationship with my…

Parents.

We still love each other,

And the ways we coexist are normal,

Yet,

The pathways between gardens are dead.

Perhaps I could find a way into their gardens,

But mine remains battered shut, and

There are no signs of forced entry.

All I feel at times,

Is the weight,

Of pressures forcing,

Changing

Contorting me into what I’m not.

Feeding the fires beneath me

So that I mold into something that was not me

Was never me, but is my “true form”

Who I’m supposed to be.

And that form kills me on the inside.

I cannot be melted into a form

And… remain the same on the inside.

Death.

Of.

Someone.

Me?

I don’t know who?

It’s just something about it that seems

Wrong.

Shivers, of what?

Of pain, joy, relief, denial,

And the last, of fear.

Fear of my vulnerability.

Vulnerability. It’s a silly thing.

But I know,

Know how vulnerable I am.

But I’m not really afraid now, --.

Sometimes I think I

Should be.

Because I don’t know,

Can’t know

What you feel.

But I do, because of what you say and

write and show.

And sometimes my heart tells me I know,

because I can see your heart in your smiles,

And feel it in your hugs,

So I’m not so afraid.

Because that same part is the part that whispered

Trust

In the first place.

The same part that said

Believe

In the first place

And the same part

That said

Courage

Heart

Speak

In the first place.

So I know,

That I must have courage

And speak to you, heart

As much as I can

In ways that I don’t know.

Because I must learn the ways of this world,

And I want to learn the trail of your heart

As I know the trails of my tears,

Because, because, because,

Something, something, something

Is pulling me.

To you.

And maybe, you to me.

I feel the warmth of my heart or yours I don’t know. J

I owe them both to you,

So does it matter?

I think, perhaps, it does.

But I won’t think on it too much, because I am

At peace somewhere.

And for once, even though I can still feel the

Torrents of emotion, turmoil

Vindictive self-pity

Vindictive bitterness at my faults and failures

Scars left on my heart by fingernails that tore in frustration

At what could not meet expectations

Roaring through my system, tearing, tearing,

They are not here in my heart tearing, tearing,

The fingernails and torrenting, tormenting

Expectations.

Great Expectations.

Ha.

Expectations.

The slow, steady torture

For the unorganized,

Unwanting cretin

Of perfectionism.

The creator of failure.

Even though I can still feel them

Somewhere tormenting, torrenting,

I Am safe.

Carried.

Thank you.

I … try to explain.

It is difficult

To explain

What feeling

Unloved for a year of failures and

Continual pain

And misunderstanding left me with,

How I feel as if you’ve repaired me.

It’s kind of silly too.

But

Last year

I laughed, once a week? Once a month?

I laugh almost every day,

I smile, I can look in the mirror, I can look people in the eye and know,

Even if I fail,

Even if everything I attempt falls to pieces

Even if my entire life falls apart at the seams.

Fail, failure, failures,

You won’t love me any less.

　

Because they say they won’t,

Say they love me still,

But sometimes, sometimes, it’s just too much,

All they say.

The lack of perfection I show every day.

The failure I display.

Their patience wears thin, and my sanity wears thin

Like a last string of the blanket of my soul stretched and starched and failing

Fraying.

But, should I coin their song title?

You found me, or I found you.

Something.

And it didn’t break.

It hasn’t broken.

And I can feel, feel, feel again.

Without that seeping, sad bitter taste of regret and

Loss that

Haunted

Me last year. There were

Ghosts in my eyes sometimes, maybe there still are sometimes –

They are fading now,

Finally, God, finally,

I’ve not even lost anything, anyone,

Just myself, and the support system that held me before last year,

We are rebuilding.

My body, soul, mind, and heart.

And you have joined me.

Helped me.

I still wonder why at times. J

Why you didn’t just turn around and

Leave when you could.

I think you still can.

But you say you won’t, haven’t.

I trust you.

And the warmth.

The warmth!

Of sunshine

On the inside.

My flowers are finally alive again,

And the brambles are changing back

Back into sunflowers

And roses, roses.

I’m tossing petals on the wind, --.

I trust you, trust you.

And even where there is darkness there isn’t,

Because I have surrendered

To the light

And accepted the eventual pain that may come.

Because it is worth it.

I will not fear. J

It is funny to me

That minds that think so hard

Can sink so softly

Sweetly

Into emotion.

In some ways it is my weapon.

I think and I feel,

The one, my guardian,

The one, my joy and sorrow.

And when I am hurt or need it,

The currents of my emotion die

In their twisting veins of life

Into frozen forms, frozen echoes of their glory,

And cold, rational intellect comes into play.

Rational tempered by the heart

Into a weapon that punctures

And protects and sees

And stabs.

A weapon that makes my heart sick,

And stabs me while I am protected.

You saw it used once against ----,

Amd you’ve seen it’s scars on me,

From a mind that had no one else to blame for

Irrational failures,

What can rational intellect forgive in mindless failure?

In lack of heart? Or deliberate disobedience?

Or lack of selflessness?

It can’t.

Others’ failures are my own.

And the scars are my own from me.

Twisted, twisted.

You are protecting me from myself.

I cannot hurt others. Only myself.

Unless you count the pain

On my parents

Of seeing my fail to grasp my full potential

Time and time and time and time and time again

Again and again,

Failure- did not try –

The disappointment of seeing their younger daughter that could

Be an amazing clarinetist

Or

Pass all her classes with flying colors

Or

Keep her areas spotless

Or

Live without stress

Fail, and fail, and fail.

They’re baby

Failing.

How dare she.

How dare she not try

When she could be so much

And do so much

And live so much better

And be so much better

And feel so much better

And see so much better

The world, the world,

All she could be.

And she can’t get it,

Can’t see it won’t.

What has cursed her eyes so?

That she won’t take what we’ve given her and

Make something

Beautiful

And lovely

-it sounds so familiar-

-does it not?-

-if not me, if I can’t, then someone else can, can’t they.-

of what she has.

Their damned daughter.

That thinks and feels

But won’t.

Do you see why you help me.

There is no one else right now.

There is no patience left for me right now.

I am a shadow of what I’m supposed to be.

And there’s no patience left.

It’s why I beg inside for you to stay here with me

All, all I have right now

To hold

Onto.

All I can

Hold onto.

Only,

My only hand

Hand in the darkness

I’m not alone.

Not alone

You aren’t alone.

Because even as I am this torn and shattered and spat upon object of contempt

I can’t let go of someone who holds me

And I won’t not hold you in return

You hold me and yourself, because I will hold you together

As long as you need it

Because my heart would not be here to hold someone together

Otherwise.

I see in you love and strength,

Compassion so powerful,

But so much strength.

I don’t know where it comes from,

All of it.

But even when you’re not using it directly it’s still there

In your eyes.

Which I also find funny.

In some ways, Shakespeare was right about the eyes.

The eyes of humans.

They speak.

Even with strength there is weakness.

Doubt. A lot of doubt.

I find it in the corners of your eyes. J

And it seeps in sometimes and colors your voice

Blues and purples

With shadows,

And I can tell that you’re remembering,

Remembering something.

I don’t always know what,

Just that it’s there.

I see some fear, more fear,

But different than mine.

In some ways it is better.

I can’t explain what you fear,

Because it still hides from me,

But I see it too, without knowing what it means.

Fear of being left alone of not finding someone.

And those times J I want to tell you I’m here

And will be as long as you need me,

But I’m not all you need,

So even with what I can give,

It’s not enough.

So I keep my mouth closed and hope your fears

Will fall away like the enshrouding leaves over

A flower bud

That fall away when its glory is revealed in its

Entirety.

I remind you still,

So that you have something to remember to combat the fear,

But what I have to give you

Is shaped by you into what you take of it.

So what it can do is shaped by you.

I see, your protection,

I see reluctance

And already the beginnings

Of the knowledge of

Enough versus

Not enough.

I exist without that.

I see, feel, the chill of some frozen parts of the heart, your heart,

The coldness.

Mine are melted,

And yours exist,

But I will melt them as I can.

Your metaphor is different than mine, twisted and broken

Not frozen.

I will try stitching,

I used to be quite good at stitching by hand.

Pain. You don’t carry it.

And sometimes it seems as if it catches you

By surprise, but I know you have it.

Sometimes I’ll catch a ghost of it,

Your pain,

But its slips away and vanishes.

I’d rather have it dead than hiding,

So my rationality is hunting it down.

And my heart, I am holding you yours,

In my hands and trying in the dark to find the wrents

And tears in your soul and and heart and being and repair them, in the dark,

And when I hear the sounds of reproach and rejection,

I gently set down your heart and flee from that darkened room

Whispering apologies for intruding too terribly

Upon that which is not mine.

I only wish to help.

I see…

A joy and love

I can only reciprocate with as much strength.

And I feel

Love.

I feel safe.

Thank you, -- Love, for who you are.

I see love in some ways

And I see mocking forms of love

The way you twist little things into larger things

And tempt others into believing in

Something that does not exist.

I know it is not entirely intentional,

I tell you what I see. J

And you do not cause them pain,

Just sadness.

The pain they feel, if any, is self-created by wanting after

Knowing you are not offering anything.

--- tortures himself by teasing

His heart with what could be even after knowing it cannot be.

He is in pain because he won’t accept.

I see knowledge, but not always perception.

You know things, you’ve looked for the patterns,

But will you search for the why?

In some ways, I think gifted is seeing the patterns

And wondering and finding out why they are there,

You are getting there,

And you’re wondering more.

I see that too.

A growing focus that percieves more.

Unless it’s just me J

But it think you are growing more perceptive.

I see… you. J

And in the many forms I do and don’t know you,

The many forms we melt into one

and the many forms we wack each other with ourselves,

I still love you.

I love you. J

Two but one, the smell of roses, and trust.

I will not forget

You.

J

Beloved.