Week 70

I think of you
Underground
Ice cold.

There is a warm blanket
Of ice and snow,
Around you.
I look down
And I can see your
perfectly preserved
Face.


Can I lay there with you
Keep your body warm
With mine.
The thought of you being there
Night after night
On your own
Is unbearable.

It should have been me
But the universe is never fair,
Only chaotic.
It doesn't give explanations
Only situations
And lets us deal with it
In whatever fragile flawed ways
We attempt to cope.

I just want to curl up next to you
And keep you warm,
Fall asleep next to you
Forever.

Week 69

I lost my virginity at 22,
My cousin at 29.

I lost my innocence at 6 maybe 7,
That one I'm still not sure of
But I know it was stolen from me
At a very young age,
You can feel it when you press on my hips
The way they withdraw and hide.

I lost my fiance at the age of 28,
And I gained love back
At the age of 28 and a half
In the form of a dog
Who lost a leg
But gained a home.

No one likes to measure
The weight of life
In the form of loss
And gains
But what other measure is universal.

If you ask me what I think,
I know life isn't a measure
Of loss and gains
Because emotions aren't calculated
By gravity or weight or anything else
We can place a scale for.
Maybe life isn't a measure at all,
Just a cheap deck of cards that are dealt by inevitablities
And the universe keeps playing
Poker, cheat, blackjack against me
And I, with no ace up my sleeve,
All bets against me
Place my downtrodden chips
In the pot.
Every turn,
I'm all in.