All of these Voices

The past continued to rise anew, whipping me back to the gales that blew, snuffed out my fire, and left my lips blue- That stole my heat then blanketed dew.

I could not live as extinguished flame. I chased the sun 'til frostbite was tamed. I trudged the path 'til warmth was reclaimed. I muttered until I could shout my name.

Waves lolloping 'neath thunderhead

Their susurration swells too steep

A tender tune turned sharp with dread

I sputter, spit, and catch my breath

A baton taps, I lift my bow

This overture must play my death

Yet still I start the tremolo

Hairs pulled taut against my chest

Vibrations climb along my spine

Cymbals crash and breakers crest

Notes amplified across the brine

From distant shores, my hymn is heard

A requiem drifts o'er the seas

Not siren’s call nor songbird's word

Discordant tones from salty deeps

Blurred, stony faces line the beach

They watch me as I'm run aground

I try to resonate but screech

They wince and scurry from the sound

My fingers slip, I lose the key

The audience retreats in droves

Now no ovation waits for me

You wear bikinis to the Arctic

and plunge into the sharpness.

Glaciers reach up toward the light.

Below, the living gave up sight.

And you, with mermaid hair,

swim right into their lair.

My lips turn blue

watching you

The heat envelops me,

Quieting constricting flesh

And lulling me into rest.

~

The white sand whips and whispers.

Your quiet eyes turn toward me

Filled with purpose and tenderness.

~

With you, the warmth permeates us,

Yet fervor need not inflame or scorch.

~

I continue to calm your fears,

Breathing splintered by gleeful cries

I saw you drifting in the distance.

The waves washed over you,

Cleansed your skin of dirt

But filled your lungs with salt.

You still sputter at the taste of the sea.

The ocean turns calm as you tread water.

Why spend your energy staying in place?

The tides will be shifting soon

And floating will no longer be an option.

Her brilliance grows with every break.

~

These tales of hardship are archaic-

Why have I softened my edges for someone who expected me to become spherical? I’ve forgotten what it means to live and let myself be known, without tiptoeing around every word and dulling my reactions. 

Yes, I am worth someone who will hold me when I’m hurting. Who won’t scoff at my thoughts. Who won’t struggle to stomach the core parts of me.

But I am also worth my own respect. I will get back to being proud of being intensely me. Slowly the guilt and fear will dissolve and I will stop apologizing for my personality.

On days where my head is hot and my feet are frigid and tornadoes whip through my lungs

Where regret twists in the pit of my stomach and the dialogue in my mind is should-have-beens

I wish for yesterdays and tomorrows and sweet days with you. When we're past the now.

/

But these nows end as the sun dies. Forced breaths counting seconds. Clenched teeth.

I can feel the space behind my eyes, the ache in my muscles, the nerves in my fingertips.

I have a foul fantasy that haunts my dreams at night. I’ll wake to find him next to me. In sleep you hold me tight.

We dance among the fallen leaves avoiding thorns and toes. And when we feel the chemistry, reactions spark and blow.

I have a horrid fantasy that no one else should hear. And when we’ve tip-toed through the trees, there’s no one there to leer.

We claw and fumble in the light and when the evening falls, our covers slip into the night. Those dark temptations call.

I have a vile fantasy that you could bring me peace. A lust that once was lost, set free through gaps between our knees.

And once I’ve sucked your marrow dry, I’d breathe into your bones. I want to feel our muscles cry. Together but alone.

Choke them back.

Do not let the words crawl out.

They will slump across the floor,

Latch onto his ankles,

And shriek until he cradles them.

.

Leave them to ripen.

Hanging, waiting to be plucked.

Better to bite into aging, flavorless fruit

When I stop to think, it stings.

I snap out of sophistry

to see how far I have strayed

from the signals of my scars.

/

I spit swiftly on each sign.

I sit still as snowstorms strike.

Who or what sanctioned my slip?

I don't have room in my bed lately

for yet another man

who says he's cracked the code.

/

You're not much of a threat, Baby.

I don't fear barbarians

by men who don't see my falsehood.

I am an idol. Glorified and sanctified