The Pensieve for my Soul

Take my lips
so laced with lust
Take my hands
but only if you must
Take my sight
though that I do adore
Take my soul
you (clearly) need it more
Take my mind
it’s yours to keep
Then take my pain
that I may not weep
Take my speech
they are but words
Take my heart
and make it yours 

left, right, left
a thousand steps are left
and once the thousand steps are up
heaven is sure to follow

up on the trees I searched
knocking birds off their perch
but though I sought long and wide
up here heaven did not reside

I looked in my lover’s eyes
probed intently between her thighs
but save for a few moments of pleasure
heaven was farther still, than I could measure 

and so I’ll keep marching on
till the days and nights are gone
for sure as the week’s days are seven
I am certain to find my heaven 

left, right, left
a thousand steps are left
but once the thousand steps are up
a thousand more will follow
 

the liars come out at night
dressed in the dusk
as they wander your earth
telling of things that cannot be

the lies come out at night
deceit cloaked in darkness
as mumbles of feigned affection
litter the midnight sky 

the lies all came out that night
dark as love’s pale death
as fact turned to fiction
and fiction turned fatal 

there is something about your eyes
that infects my thoughts
as it searches for a spirit
that was purposefully lost

there is something about your smile
that on my walls pound
as it hunts for a heart
that refuses to be found

there is something about your being
that whispers to my pain
saying to my soul
you don’t have to hurt again

when love leaves it leaves traces
like cigar smoke falling on ashen faces
subtle hints and obvious clues
of solemn days and nighttime blues

happy memories are hidden from thought
and pictures burnt as closure is sought
but try as you might to forget the peaks, to forget the troughs
lost love is a stain you can never wash off

when at the moon’s behest
the sun retires for the day
believe in me
for my love will never grow grey

when the dusk is darkest
and the shadows come out to play
hold on to me
let not fear lead your mind astray

when the road is blackest
and the stars are kept at bay
think of me
and I will light your way

i love watching words wind
bobbing and weaving through the center of my mind
i love releasing a metaphor from its cage
watching as it dances for joy across the page
i love aligning asinine alliterations not dissimilar to this one
because it just seems like pretty good, honest, fun
i love silly rhyming words and words that don’t seem to fit
love trying to figure them out till my head seems to split
i love words that roll off the tongue and words that catch the eye
words like onomatopoeia and words like ‘by the bye’
i love words that sound sing-songy,
and even made up words like thingy or songy
i love words that make you stop and think
words that to the very depths of your soul do sink
but the words i love the most
are the three little ones that are said up close
by long lost lovers in the dark
and a happy mother and son in the park
you know them well, i know it’s true
so i don’t need to say it’s i love you

the fragments of a dying song
plays over and over in my head
remnants of a future forgotten
by the present it was meant to wed

though i try to hold on to it
to grasp the essence of the words
the last crumbs of chords blow away
to become fodder for the birds

and so my song is gone
lost to a lack of will
and though i might move on
this truth will haunt me still

if i sounded profound
and talked about the world
like it was more than just round
would i be more than just a man
or a man that was just more? 

if i thought in foreign tongues
and could read dreams
in the form of subtle songs
would i be seen as a god
or a god that was just seen? 

if i could take all your love
nurture it
and give it the wings of a dove
would i become your savior
or the one that was just saved? 

there’s something attractive about pain
we are drawn to misery
fascinated by distress
entranced by agony

there’s something seductive about pain
torture and torment appeals to us
our morbid fantasies satiated
by constant anguish

there’s something magnetic about pain
it just pulls you in
holds you close
and never lets go 

a love filled with easy smiles
and carefree laughter
was cut short - there was no
happy ever after

our voices rose steadily
like waves of the Black Sea
a crescendo of verbal explosion
that to my very core, shook me

i lost something that day
in the chaos of the blast
i could have sworn it was wedged
between my future and my past

but as i sifted through the rubble
i knew it was all in vain
for no matter how much i searched
i would never find myself again

the surface is jagged, rocky
the ground uneven, heaving
but surefooted, you walk on
oblivious to the perils
both to you and to me
my heart is fragile, you see
so please, please, tread lightly

inflamed by passion
we fought like most lovers
in the heat of the moment 
we thought like most talkers
(which is to say not at all)
we needed to communicate
the silence was sand to the blaze
but we talked like mutes
and acted like brutes
till the fire died
and we turned to other pursuits

Looking down at the pale, lifeless form below, he thought of how fleeting and meaningless life was. It was just a tireless loop of birth and death, a collection of mental as well as tangible pictures of moments that, though cherished, were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day all people really did was eat, poop and die, hoping that someone they left behind would mourn their passing.

As he gave his body one last look before he went to wherever it is lost souls go, one stray thought lingered, gnawing at the empty space where his brain was supposed to be.

no one will mourn me.

He turned the thought over and over in his hollow head, going through the different permutations of meaning that single phrase could have. In the end he settled on a simple, earth shattering conclusion. He had failed in the one task all humans were seemingly given as rent for existing - to have someone who would love them enough to mourn them. And he was, in a strange way, alright with that.