#dissacotiation

Her: “like your drinking and humor?”

And not because it was so relaxing

Or so magical

But because I was suffocating

So instead I just had crappy dreams of him following me everywhere

Which is

You know

Fun

And not entirely too far from reality

And if I’m not dreaming about letting him down

I’m dreaming about her

And sobbing

This isn’t fair

When will I own my body again?

Then I had problems with falling in love

I am composed of a finite amount of

Rhythms

Harmonies

Messages

Though an end has yet to be found

This is how I breath

If you open the jars

Beyond the ashes that float up from the flames

Gazing into the variously colored contents

It all continues to burn

If you stare long enough into the blues and greens

Oranges and yellows

The rainbows and the greys

Take away the flame and you’ll find pieces of my heart

Sometimes a piece of charcoal

Sometimes red and beating

One day I’ll dump out the jars into a pile

Together

And start sorting the pieces

As you prepare a puzzle

Orient

Separate

Consummate

Complete at last

Like the opus I was created to be

One day

But for now I walk the long hallways of my music library

Hands behind my back as I gaze up and down the shelves

Picking various jars from their hiding places

Opening the lid

And pour in more time

To keep the flame going

To keep my heart pieces breathing

Until there’s nothing left to give

Then I screw the lid back on

Hold my breath

And surface until I can hold my breath no longer

And make another plunge

To store myself away

I don’t know how to tell you

The more I give the more I feel

And trying to not let the last 10 months

Feel like a waste

Waking up

And trying to glean any lesson

Other than

- cutting open the pages of myself that have laid on the shelf with a worn cover

Giving the illusion I’m well read

Always digging

To find who I am

To lament that I haven’t been her-

I don’t know how to describe this

Or