Love Letter 276 The Road Less Solace

Dear Lover,

This letter is sad.

Can I show my grief to you?

There have been a long line of abortions

to my love

and though in protest, my body cannot stand

my limbs pour pure steel into grieving

loss and lead like great friends

filling a koan with tears

I love you

though I have said that

and still the water runs dry

the thirst...

is ever steady

the thirst...

is full throttle

the thirst...

is unbreakable

my love

I am lost

do you have my compass?

will you stay in the forest and hear my tears?

I have grown up.

like a weed learning to honor her own beauty

in a world of

flower and fruit

I have had to find my reason

for being less

than you were willing to spend/hold

My love

I am so lonely

the sparks from this stolen aorta are like granules of death

sputtered into a pewter rash.

looked over again,

I have come to the charmless bridge

where I must decide

birthing or burning?

each intention is so pure

all my thoughts taint it

I look in the river

and that murk has become

my mother

I want you to adore me

think of that thin bare line

which I adorn

You are always

the idol of my quenching

and yet I thirst

bucket of water in my hands

and yet I thirst

Lord, I want to be purified

I want your inner beauty

to wash out all my pock marks

I want all your vintage holiness

to spark my reinvention

if I am bathing

my feet

in your awe,

what crying can be cured

by

your

letting me?

I am all alone in this world

the Fates

smother and smear me

I roll along their walls

punishing

the pain

inside of me

can you endure

my hurt?

some letters, my love

are pure

selfishness,

rivalry

of one's own pretenses

thoughts become bargains

in the veil of the ideal

can you put up with this?

I Love You

Your Beloved

Love Letter 275 Pinafore

Dam.!

is it over?

I thought you would come back

but

alas

you have moved on

this love letter has been stuck in the silence I gave you

along with my refusal

to let you know my heart

and now

those things

will

never be opened

again

by you

it doesn't feel like love

as I say it

it doesn't move

like

anything but

fear

regret

animosity

incredulousness

I am still here

and you

are

not

do you know how much room I have saved in my heart?!

have you any idea how I have kept this shop

like a mausoleum of our addiction?!

can you imagine

how much of myself

I have bartered off

in favor

of keeping how I saw you

fitting in here

and all that vacancy

has been claustrophobic

as my speck of self

became

"the waiter"

how I expected you

to come

back

and move in

again

if I could just stop swallowing you up

and then

I wouldn't have to wonder

what God

wanted

because

with you

I thought I'd figured it out

no.

there are thrown and broken ornaments

all over

my

hope

chest

and sirens

coming

through my synapses

gasping your name

there

has been

no oxygen

since you left

and my lung

so deficient in love

has

collapsed

why

does

God come near

when I have fallen

in love

with death?

Why does She

wait

for the white flag

to drop

in a field of tumors

and the rest of this restless breath

to become

a strategy?

Can She see

that I have woven you

into

the whole world

I wanted

and that our love

had its own orchestra?

my heart

has a charley horse

not riding off

into the sunset

but

down

into

the vigilant despair

I borrowed

from the way things were

it is almost

too much

to throw

away the door

you closed

but God

has a bonfire

started

for just

such

nuisances

I Love you

Your Beloved

Love Letter 274 Your Fruitful Wound

in a form all his own

he will take your wonder

and pour it out

like unowned stars

and tread upon them

as if

they were

shadow

instead

of

all you had

and it will take

a little bit

longer

for you to

reach back in

and let him

empty

all the ten -cent- grieving- decibel- screaming

but

that is

because

you are identified

with

how that mercy will come

when

his hands

have bent you

into some agile instrument --

all your alloy

like a gem,

and when you

let go

of the practice.

of

the sound.

somehow

the magic

of what you are

begins

to

live

I want you to know

that I am still holding back

who

I think I am

from One

who knows it all

and I am still

tentative

about

letting

the alchemist's giant tongue

enter my esophagus

but I

want

with all my heart

the mercy

that I cannot give myself

and he,

knows how

to

give it

I love You

Your Beloved