you keep me present

It’s Sunday and I’m lying on the sofa
while you make macaroni and cheese in the kitchen.
The TV is making noise but I’m not paying attention to it.
I rarely do.
I’m listening to the sounds of your footsteps
and the clinking of the cookware.
I’m listening to you doing normal things
and breathing life into this house.
And it is such a beautiful ruckus.
Those are the sounds of love and contentment
that I’m so afraid to lose.
Those are the sounds that interrupt my terrible mind,
and save me from myself.
Those are the sounds that fill the empty space
and verify that yes, I am still present
yes, I am still loved,
and yes,
I am still here.

the rope

a large, manila rope
spins and unfolds and 
falls from the ceiling
like soft serve
onto your shoulders
endlessly
coiling into a spiral
piling up,
pushing you down,
and burying you.

every day 
it takes 
more strength to stand
upright
to fight the rope
to stand 
up straight
to look people in the eye
and walk with purpose
and carry the rope

but the rope keeps falling.

if you drop it,
more follows,
and it just keeps coming,
and if you trip over it,
it will block you in
so you have to try and carry it
and balance it
and pretend it’s not piling up,
all around you.

but the rope keeps falling.

you have to believe
that the rope
won’t crush you
you have to believe that it
won’t stop you
you have to believe that it won’t
be the last thing
you ever see
because the second you
stop and doubt yourself
or think about all that rope
that just keeps
falling 
and twirling
and spiraling down,
endlessly on top of you,
from that undying spool,
the second you stop to think about it,
the second you stop to look at it,
to consider it, to accept it,
is the second
that rope
becomes
real.

There are Flowers

There are flowers where your life used to be.
Meadows of lupine, poppies, lavender and clover.
Fed by the rolling storms of my tears.
They are thriving and they are in blossom.
And they are springing from all the cracks
you used to fill.
There are flowers where your life used to be.
And though they are colorful and nice to see,
they do not compare to you.
There isn’t a flower in this world that could.
Not the ice plants with their vibrant shimmer,
nor the sunflowers with their confident gaze.
I would trade them all,
all the flowers in the world,
for just one more day.
One more moment.
There are flowers where your life used to be
and I will watch them grow and fade
as I did with you.
And I will watch them blossom
as you did with me.
And as the seasons pass and the years
erode the shores of my memory
and your presence vanishes from these rooms
I will turn to the meadow inside me,
a vast prairie that unfolds into
an endless blue sky
where the flowers never wilt,
the wind is calm and cool
and the water is always clear.
Because that is where you now live.
Close to me.
Inside me.
In that perfect meadow
there on the very surface of my heart
where you are always safe
and you are never alone.