And the sky was full of red.

The hot anger spilling from his lips

The sticky blood spilling from her bed

   Where she lay dead

And the sky was full of red

His hands on her arm

He never wanted her to leave

He never wanted her to come to harm

And the sky was full of red

The color of their lust

The color of their love

The color of her blinding trust

You'd made fake "claws" out of paper

You leaned forward and scratched me

Your sleeve slid down to reveal hospital bracelets

You were recovering, they said.

You made eye contact with me, 

Your eyes told a different story

I saw pain in them

The last time, they were angry. Scathing. 

I was afraid you hated me. 

What more can I say, all my poems are about you

They all try to recapture you but you're just a figment

A moment in space and time 

A time when I was young

A time when I was full of love.

My words twist in lies that bend to truth

And cycle around meaning without ever touching it

My words are this world manipulated to be others fantasies

And understanding wound through confusion

My words are mine yet still somehow everyone else's

And possession found in loss

When we first met, neither of us could see

So you must have loved my personality

Your hair smelled of strawberry

I was full of myself, you were full of me.

You loved me until I wasn’t feeling the same

You hurt me, you tore me, covered me with shame

Your lips on my lips, I couldn’t tear away

All you wanted was for me to stay.

But you hurt me, you scared me, I’m forever scarred

Now circumstance has us torn apart

I just hope I don’t see your unseeing eyes again

Would it have been better if we just stayed friends?

He loved the carnival.

The bright colors, the Ferris wheel, the smell of butter and cinnamon, the sound of laughter.

He was only allowed to leave once a week. They didn't follow him because they knew he'd return-he had nowhere else to go.

And he always went to the carnival. He had no money to go on the Ferris wheel, to taste the butter and cinnamon, to laugh with the other kids he was never able to play with.

But he could still see the colors.

The bright reds, yellows, and oranges of the rides and tents, the baby blue of the sky, the rich, luscious grass.

Once a week he could see it.

He could take the beatings, the ever searing pain of hunger, and the non-stop work in the pitch black dark, because once a week he got to see the colors.

Let it go, dear friend, let it go.

You are not alone in your grief.

Sit down with me here, on the river bank.

Rest a while by the cool and purling water,

And listen how the river sings to us.

Let someone else hold the world together.

Let others shout, and stomp, and pound on doors

While we lie back and lose ourselves in the clouds.

Like the flight of the winged samara,

Life should be carefree, without design,

A glorious dance in the wind. And nothing more.

It would be simpler, less of a hurting thing,

If we were never to reach out--

To live without purpose, or direction, or love.

How merrily the samara waltzes through the air,

Whirling and twisting as it blows along,

Tossed about capriciously

Until, with the dying of the breeze,

It falls, fluttering, to the ground--

On a hillside, perhaps, or in a meadow,

Alone--yet not alone.

That would be nice, would it not,

To end the journey so quietly,

To let the warm forgiving earth

Cover us over and fold us in,

To sleep and dream

Until we waken to another springtime

And new beginnings.

For your first photo

They dressed you in white,

Pure like the sunlight

Or like the horse of a knight.

With those tiny hands

Trying to grab me

With slow movements and eyes half closed

I took a photo while you posed.

You were such a little monkey,

Climbing every tree

And camping in the tree house.

You invited me there for tea,

We had sweets, plums and biscuits;

Biscuits from the kitchen,

Plums from the garden

And sweets from you sweet heart.

“No cleaning just fun” you said

But every night I would go to pick up the crumbs

While you counted sheep.

You told me every dream,

About seeing the world, each dream a new place.

No nightmares- I wouldn’t allow them.

She was so pretty.

She made you smile

Even more than I did,

More than any other kid.

Playing sky pirates

Up there in a tree.

My heart skipped a beat

Every time that you picked a sword,

I know it was plastic,

But why not just use a stick?

Why did you grow?

I was so happy…

We were so happy…

What happened to my battery?

For when I came to our home,

Broken from work,

A little monkey came like a horse,

Running into my arms for kisses.

But our bitter arguments,

Cruel statements

And stupid doubts

Stole my battle companion.

And here we were:

A smile with no honesty

And a heart with no candy.

For your first photo

After the knot:

They dressed her in white

And you in black.

So she would be the light

For the darkness.

Both together, ready for a new fight,

Ready for a war.

She’s a new world to explore,

You would need some help.

I gave you what I had

And what I’ll never have,

For you never to be sad,

For you not to be poor,

For you to explore,

For your travels.

Look at us,

My dress, soft green and brown,

A kiss on your crown,

Free from any frown.

An empty space,

No photo ever came,

Not one, not two or any.

No photos of the world,

No time

For seeing flags

Or Ridding banners over the seas,

Mountains,

Or anywhere.

Not fair,

In the future

When you’re like me,

You won’t have a battery.

Today,

My last photo,

Taken on this bed,

Where I have slept

And been fed.

Holding the macramé butterfly

Made by your girl

Sat beside me; and you,

My earl,

Holding my hand.

Now, remember dear,

Everything in the past is dead,

And it died for you and for us.

Remember that,

When you visit my grave.