These Are Not My Truths, IX

IX

All I have left,
i hold my hands wide, open,
outstretched,
are my train ride poems-
looking out.

Her mouth smiles,
his eyes do not.

“The first thing you need to learn, girl,”
the other women told me,
“Is never trust your heart,
it’ll always lie to you.

Always.”

I’ve forgotten that rule,
the wholeness I felt

Under his hand, between his
smile,
with words running like sand
in a desert storm,

Scouring skin.

“The second thing you gotta remember,”
they have my attention now,
“Is never let them see
how much it hurts.
Never.”

No idea how long it took me

To learn that one
But I’ve known it
my whole life.

Measure your misery, carefully,
and never start something

You can’t walk away from.

These Are Not My Truths, VIII

VIII

“Why did you call me?”

She asks, head tilted,

curious.

With arms around me,
protected,
I reply
“Because I knew you’d come.”

These Are Not My Truths, VII

VII

Her skin is copper

Beneath my fingers.

Tangled hair, brown-
her hazel eyes are beautiful

I watch them

darken

with desire.

Protecting her heart,

protecting her soul-

Muscles tense

under my hand.

I want to pull all her pain

into

my body.

Her lower lip trembles, quivers
I love it most of all,

Giving away her fear (and hope)
When she couldn’t speak.

She wonders
why

I want her.

Fire- reflections in her eyes

The delight there,

when I touch her,
Will always be worth it.

She’ll never

believe

She is enough.

These Are Not My Truths, VI

VI

Writing you poems
you’ll never see

because i never give them
to you
i’m afraid you’ll understand them
too much
and stop loving me.

These Are Not My Truths, V

V

see her eyes
glitter in the half-light

they outshine the stars.

i want to cup my hands together
catch the light
show it to her, beautiful.
i’d  like to paint her body
with whorls and sparkles
until she sees my truth.

But I don’t want her to cry for me,
don’t want her tears ,

It isn’t worth that.

(she cries for me anyway
even as she anchors me
to her body, with
arms and legs and
that undefinable
love.

all I have to give
anymore
is an air conditioned
train ride poem
that i composed in my head
and tried to give to her
in lieu of my heart.

it isn’t the same)

These Are Not My Truths, IV

IV

I tried to tell you once
about what my brother did to me.
But you’ve never
had the time to listen
to petty memories.
And now I don’t remember
why I wanted to tell you.

“I can’t remember, I can’t remember,
I can’t remember.”
has turned into
“I won’t remember, I won’t remember,
I won’t remember.”

Wielding your silence like a club,
even now,
laying entwined with you,
finally, almost happy,
almost asleep
I’m afraid

 to wake you up
and tell you my
truths.

Even when we’re together
I’ve never felt so alone,

If I could figure out
a way to do it right
to bother no one,
to effect no one,

I’d kill myself.

But all I can hear
is my niece asking
where I went, and when I’ll be home

Echoing in my ears.

I know that my being in a war
is more exciting to you
than anything I can
physically do.

“I’m glad you came back home.”

He whispers into my hair, into
my neck, into
my body.
I ponder this thought,
Glad to be home, yes,
but maybe if there were people
like me
involved
This wouldn’t happen.

These Are Not My Truths, III

III
The clinic was filled with people
of all shapes and sizes,
there is a couple sitting opposite me
a blue haired boy with a Mohawk
with a sea green haired girl
who has a single streak of red.
She’s crying, into his shoulder,
his face is sad, as he whispers to her
“It’s better this way, it’s better this way,
it’s better this way.”

I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince himself,
her, or me.
Even though I know he’s right.

These Are Not My Truths, II

II

Sometimes

you hold on, too tightly,

to everyone and everything.

As I stare,

into the red tinged darkness,

watching the stars blink into existence.

I wonder,

Is it because you never learned to

 let go,
or because you’re scared

we won’t come back.

I’m four hundred and sixty seven miles away-
I counted every single step,
to make sure I knew

how to get home.

These Are Not My Truths

These Are Not My Truths

I give my truths in her silences

Only ever releasing them in the dark.

“I went off to war,

and came back- ten years ago.”

 I shake my head, grazing her shoulder.

“Promising everyone that mattered

 I would come back,

and I kept that promise. But,
I never said I’d stay the same, never

promised I’d keep the same dreams.”

Her arms wrap around me in the dark,

Anchoring me to her, or her to me-

I can never tell.

“I hate her for not being here,

when I got back- but

not as much as

I hate myself,

 for not crying- mourning.”

She whispers in my ear,
“People like you

should never go off to war-

your heart isn’t strong

enough to go

without

breaking.”