The Night Beneath The Wind Tree

At this point I'm so well acquainted with your death that I'm anticipating the scene. It's about sliding another knife in. This time it's right under my shoulder blade. • Last night you boarded the last plane available. I watched as the wings ignited. Little known fact: most passengers don't die upon impact. The jet fuels burns so hot that all the oxygen is sucked from the cabin. They suffocate strapped to their seats, and then are burned to ashes. Body identification is often impossible, so the authorities look to the boarding roster to inform their loved ones. But I saw you step on. I held your hand as you did it because you were scared. I took a step back and closed my eyes. Last week, you were murdered by my ghost. In this fantasy, you never see it coming and I always know the outcome. So when I took the blade to your throat I was watching your eyes All of life Existing in your eyes You're taking shape now And just like my music boxes Destruction of beautiful things is something I'm forced to find whether I like it or not So when you jumped from the fog covered bridge I was wordless. • It's no longer tragic And so very predictable Your murder-suicide Either way, you die, and as the light filters through the curtains, I'm reliving you.

You're within reach, or at least a version of you is. Drifting there like she did. Wraith in the poppy field. This facade falls with your voice But I will not hear it When the stage is mic'd, the band is done tuning, And I've closed my eyes. Bring your understood silence closer. Now I want there to be blood in my throat As I scream your name Allow me to lose consciousness And leave me I need you to leave me Leave me

Your hair is still as blonde as the day you left. You were never boring to look at. I would look at you for hours, and then a little more past that. But I didn't love you. I never knew you well enough. What I did know was something fundamental was connecting us. You didn't care about my position in this world, you just wanted something to hold on to as the ship was battling the waves. I could provide that then. Now I'm in your spot. Same hair Same height Same age Same suffering Up until yesterday your features bled together. No one has a picture of you. My curiosity fed you until obesity, starved you a skeleton, chipped your bones for narrow hips, and burned your hair. You've defied me and kept your beauty. I smile to that. That sad part is I didn't catch your eyes.

I'm here conjuring up that shared trauma Mascara painting your cheeks And your midnight attire You truly assume the form I've toyed with the idea of giving you that bi-annual call and asking about this hour. Are you grateful I'm done hurting you? That us writhing on the floor in sufferance doesn't get me off anymore? Yet still, time and scar tissue has obscured all the minor details. What I see now: • A dichotomy: -Constrast of a Christmas tree -to your vitria an ooze At any other time you would have scared me away, But I didn't feel anything that night. So the joke Is on us. • Me as a saddened snowman, begging for an audience from my Queen. The snow so thick that I become lost, fall down, and end up with your beastial eyes upon mine. Where does the poetry come in? Here, with the window, and you shrouded in shadows. I press my face to yours and look on, transfixed, to what was behind you, or was it through you? It was there I wanted it to end(my reality). In every figurative sense the dreams were my safe haven from you. They still are. Thou shalt not return in dreams. • My plead for exposure. You weren't having it. I wasn't having it either. If I was the Fool, and you the Savant, which one of us was God? That's what this goes back to. You wanting to kill, me wanting to be killed, and as the knife was plunged, who we were to each other. "Why?" It permeated my chest, my ribs, my lungs - it left me so breathless that I'll never suffer a hit like that again. You won that battle. Why? Why? Why? Why? I've never heard a word spat with true malice before you. You had every intent to murder - When I looked Death in the eyes and wouldn't apologize

I find you interesting because of the surrounding mystery Your name is a constructed fantasy of 30 minute interactions I would love to keep you there In there you are perfect Your eyes are kept sad Your metaphors are understood Infinity shifts inside you And you taste sweeter than any other lover • What you already know: -Our Whole Song- The Chords & All the silence

He wanted to meet me or rather You wanted me to meet him and I Shook his hand and s m i l e d "Please make a good impression..he's worried about you." How about this? -The ashes of his third cigarette -A moonlit open lawn -Both your eyes fixated on me -Me playing the part -And when he goes inside -The mawing at your neck Remember the fervency? As if it was the last thing we ever did With every night our last A "Goodnight" With the moon As our witness • Did you ever question why, As deception drove us off the cliff, We embraced the entire fall?

Now you’re the bells of Giralda Tower or perhaps A standing bowl I keep in my room and these poems and these conversations are hammers made of hard metal and you are not made of diamond How I love the sounds you make How I loath the cracks you’ve suffered How I know there’s no repair No one has that skill. If I’m lacking my depth of feeling? Thwack. May you ring for hours. Overwhelm the atmosphere Scare the patrons from the venue Sing louder, higher, more distorted than ever before Create an abhorrent sound, love Castigation, desperation, and transcension All in one And if I find your face? Hear your voice? Give you that formal hug that we are so well Aware of? Remember my masochism?

Melancholy manifests through our attachments, an undertow so pervasive it's changed our eyes forever. There's no anatomical study, no empirical data sheet, no method of conversation to understand it. You either feel it or you don't. I'm not surprised you feel me now. Rage sleeps as the Beast beneath, quelled by the raindrops running down our cheeks, the primal ferocity we give our objects of desire. It is stirred by a prompt melancholy has no tool to interpret with. Reminders of our failures and nostalgia for the pain they bring along. I'm feeling you when they scream into the microphone. You know exactly what I'm doing.

It started with our fingers shaping the moonlight A swallow song A match flickering the pine • Is that what total seduction feels like? No questions With even less hesitation? I spent an eternity Inside your eyes Your parted lips; Our easy breath • Returning to the womb: A curse upon me

As I turn the dial down And you saturate the canvas Let this vivid nature leak out; An excuse for our severance - Invoking madness as a currency I'm forced to relive you at every corner: My palpitating heart Grit on the lense An optimism long long long gone My return on investment • "I'm no goddess and I don't have potential to be."

I think we could go a year without speaking I look into your eyes and I feel at home The drug addict home of my childhood Shooting up our smooth pain You're still unknown Just out of reach And my desire engulfs me; traps me in; confuses the senses. So easy Easy lust You spit on the grass Now spit in my mouth Press your nails to my stained lips Let me take you right in Snub your ashes On these words On our skin Black it out for good. for us for est fire

This is me bringing myself to the edge of the world To peer over the ledge To pull your memory from the recess of the mind A buried desire to master myself And see how far I am able to fall

You are that whispered memory Fern in the desert sand Waiting for the storm that kills us all You are sex as activity Enthusiasm cut at the stem The fire that burns it all away

"You know what happens when you burn a bridge?" You have to learn to swim. Or fly." I've been stopped at a red light And you've been standing in the rain Inundating the landscape • Golden Haunt The visage grows dul l l l l l • Last night we fed our baby bird But in the end It dies again, again You cry again, again The Sun passing off to the Moon. No longer touching Just revolving -Our last connection-