Different

I Hold

If I could have had
him
I could have let

He wants me to be confident—

I sit at the piano. I feel his cold world collapse beneath my fingers

Wretched Darling

Nine stories below, he watches her fly— through the glass and steel high-rise—gracefully, passionately with a fierce air of defiance and mockery in each turn.

This is Freedom

The sun amuses me with her afternoon vibrance.
The pine tree— vertical, proud; out of place next to my Scottsdale balcony— dances to each beat the wind throws her. Hair plays wild—like her owner, performing cartwheels, back-handsprings in  suns honor.

The world around me dances. Everything inside me dances—we’re all swaying…to the same beat.

I look left catching glimpse of my reflection in the balconies sliding glass door. My bare legs are tan, fresh from  Kona sun. My face is glowing, eyes have become blue sparklers on a 4th of July warm sandy evening.
Suddenly I notice—   I’m stunning. I’m absolutely gorgeous.
The last months of affairs that unfolded—the happenings I knew would destroy and break me,
instead,
revealed my most precious self.

My heart boasts a peace you can’t buy, a kindness most can’t afford.
Veins are free  of    past. Pen moves to the  rhythm  of no one —

This temple I live in,  has been dirtied too long.
I stare at her reflection—   watch   her  transform
from death  into life. 

The shingles on the roof below   keep me feeling separate from time.  The coffee in my Hualalai mug keeps  innards at the same temperature as the summer sun has provided my sun-drenched skin.

I feel loved.  I don’t know who loves me, but I feel safe— certain.
I feel beautiful, pure— flawless.
I am empty of all mistakes. Fingers riddle  pen with every possibility. She scribbles illegible ink across the clean, bare page..
I stare directly into the sun, then   gradually lower  eyes onto  page.
I decode pen’s scribbles and read aloud:

“You are standing on top the world,
She is underneath your feet.“

This is more than love. This is better than love.

Let go

Sometimes the only way to let go…

Always drunk, always high…

…he doesn’t remember, why should I?