diary of ophelia's mind

but as I get lost in thought of us,

I realize my hands are not idle.

I have one hand on a hilt;

as I pull out the remaining knives you left behind.

I do so in a daze,

lost in a maze of memories.

yet, I am all too aware of the sting.

crouched on the floor,

of some random old house.

these days I find myself looking for a new home to house my mind.

but I am there,

and you are there

where i left you.

the tip of the blade, wet with fresh blood

shines in the light of the midnight sun.

in my other hand as I sink against the wall,

I hold needle and thread.

this is something I need to do.

heal and move

move out of the way

and surrender.

surrender understanding,

misunderstanding,

surrender pain and suffering.

God shall stitch me up,

and He will settle me somewhere

somewhere new,

where you will not be,

but neither will my anger.

...one day.

the piano is out of tune

i play until my fingers ache

just to feel my mind move

the synthetic ivory

to remember the way sound

once changed me

mediocrity or meaning

every indifference ages me

like christmas in july

i make excuses to seek the

childlike joy, the reason

for creative celebration

once excitable and ablaze

small wildfires of my heart

lay at rest within me now

in watered down memory

baby grand keys and carols

may not resurrect them

Sunlight strewn, salty fresh

Shadows slither up my skin

A heat unwinding within

I turn a blade behind my smile

Silence to entrance and to beguile

Come closer, lover

Stand here under my soft cover

I am a wild woods, these limbs gently sway

You can retreat but you can't turn away

I am the candle, you are the flame

Stream at sunset and a Heron