The slammed door and the silence

The slammed door said I’m hurting.

The silence said I’m scared.

The walls between us listened

when no one seemed to care.

The portraits on the wall,

oh how they seemed stare,

where deep within night

the stars poured ever clear.

The door knob turned eventually

as silence did it’s head,

the sea between us parted and

the portraits went to bed.

While all the world was sleeping

with all their monsters fed,

the boy and girl slept soundly

no sooner had they met.

Cupid’s always looking in

This life’s a beautiful disaster penned one summer long ago

I mean who was I kidding just a kid on the East Coast

So I took my car and drove off found myself out on the road

I was so sure I was different but so scared of letting go

Had this girl her name was pure like it was written in the stars

I first met her in the backseat of my good friends mother’s car

And I don’t quite know how it happened tangled alone in the dark

But she showed me true compassion for a badly broken heart

And if you ever saw the way her fingers danced upon my hand

Love’s an infinite reminder I just couldn’t understand

She was beautiful regardless of the way things had to end

I’m just happy to have seen her grown and happy as a friend

Somewhere before and after I had lost my innocence

Was a child when I said come on let’s go what’s happening

Like a judge biting my tongue so long held on to my defense

Till one day it all poured out like a volcano from my head

You talk too much don’t talk enough try this paper and pen

I think that it’ll help to write it down is what she said

And of course guess what it happened but this time in a kitchen

We were kindred drunk and carefree at first sight I do admit

I wasn’t looking for a lover in retrospect needed a friend

But that’s the way it happens Cupid’s always looking in

When she took me without question I knew something had to give

Had more talent in her pinky than I swear I ever did

And she tried hard to convince me I was good at fitting in

Still my anger got the best of me and then the fear to live

See it took 6 months of depression just to make one decision

I would have should have could have now son that’s no way to live

I thought if I just disappear perhaps I’d be no one’s burden

But learned life is a disaster that you somehow have to live

So I packed my bags one day and gave myself unto the wind

Hell I’ve been kicking rocks forever so I’m hella used to it

See there’s no way of ever knowing how tomorrow’s gonna end

You just get up brush your hair and then go do it again

Still love’s an infinite reminder I’ve tried so hard to understand

It always makes more sense when you’re left with empty hands

Like a psychic I am reading all the lines riddles and man

I can see it all so clearly first accept yourself and then

Maybe you get lucky one day in Central Park

Or perhaps while spilling coffee on a stranger after dark

There’s a reason for each season as one ends one’s soon to start

It only takes a moment kiddo ready on your mark

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

I was nothing more than excuses,

a great big ball of disappointment

which she tried desperately to employ.

At the bottom of it, I was fragile and weak.

In the pits of despair I looked to love,

but could not fully know love without

loving myself, which by terms of engagement

were cut like beautiful red ribbons from her hair.

Give me death, I’d beg.

Give me peace, I’d scream,

unaware that there was any difference between.

Still she’d try, day in and day out, pushing forward

like an endless train car of hopeful desire.

We’d even escape together too

with nothing but the wind to guide our path

and the rise and fall of the sun to persuade us forward.

Knee deep in the escape of journey we’d prevail,

until of course the final push where and when

like a wrecking ball of fate our souls would wither

in the crest of the sun upon the blind horizon.

Even now, I still turn my sights inward

reminded of her beauty and strength,

channeling it outward where I can walk

head turned high among the many shapeless eyes

who know nothing of my past, care nothing of my future

who’d rather see me not than to judge.

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

And like all those many times before I know

even if we were to change(our minds) we couldn’t.

Though my count of crows is high

I know that one day it will be but one.

Until then I’ll keep this in my breast pocket

along with my sunglasses, where I reach for them sometimes

when my heart is heavy

where I can’t bear to look away

where I gaze into the distant clearing

and watch grasshopper spring

from golden stalk to golden stalk

blissful in the quiet light.

A working hypothesis.

Burning my hand while removing our bagels from the broiler, I hear a voice.

“BECAUSE THERE’S NO GOD DAMN ROOM!”

And I recognize that voice.

That voice is not my own.

It’s deep and fearful.

Hoarse and irrational.

It is the voice of an angry man.

It is the voice of my father.

Then there is silence.

A long insecure silence.

A fearful silence.

And I recognize that silence.

I have been on the receiving end, and that is a terrible place to be.

Catching myself in the act I quickly apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

Only now it is my voice.

It is mild and tame.

Concerned and rational.

It is the voice of a scared child.

It is the voice of a worried man.

And in my mind I’m thinking, please believe me.

Please for the love of all that is holy.

Believe me.  Believe me.  Believe me.

Because what I meant to say – while burning my hand and channeling the blame to whomever(the loved) was in firing range – was, “because I’m the idiot who didn’t think twice before touching a hot pan.”

It’s my fault.

Not yours.

And now I’ve got the scar to prove it.

Through outwardly and publicly expressing concern and or contempt for one’s actions, said party, will reject the path of his predecessor in order to lead a gentle existence.

It’s a working hypothesis.