Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Tangible Evidence

She needs tangible evidence,

she needs visible scars.

She needs me to bare my naked soul

and show her where I bleed.

She needs to hear me weeping

she needs to see me fall.

She needs scratches and bruises and

 holes in my jeans.

I am a brooder, a thinker

and I keep it all safe from harm.

Separate and distant,

it’s mine.

I have left her in silence

I have left her here alone.

I have closed the door

and she has walked away.

She is quietly dying inside

and she is wandering, lost.

Left unattended, left on her own,

why would she want to come home?

She needs colour and fire

and things full of life.

She needs music,

she needs to dance.

She needs gestures and moments

and memories to mark time.

She needs magic

and she needs to feel.

She needs to come home

to a candle lit room.

She needs conversations

of magic and dreams.

She needs to see me cry

she needs to see me fall.

She needs to see

the broken pieces of me.

She once held the key to the door

and somewhere I took it away.

I changed the locks and hid the key

and I never told her why.

She is the one who holds my heart

the one that I so revere. 

She is breath, she is life, she is balance,

why would I not give her me?

If she needs tangible evidence,

if she needs visible scars.

I will cut, I will scratch, I will scrape, I will bleed,

I will give her my ink stained hands.

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