Proof?

It was I who woke that night

while the October rain was falling,

crashing against my panes;

the autumn storms come calling.

 

Burrowed in my blankets;

never caring of its fury;

let it mangle the makings of man

as it sweeps across Missouri.

 

The oak outside my walls

beat my roof in rage,

while the wild winds tried to peel

the shingles from my cage.

 

I closed my eyes to sleep,

but the roar was inside my room,

thundering like a mother’s heart

through her pregnant womb.

 

I cracked an eye to see,  

imagining only to see my pillow,

but instead, I saw the giant’s eye

peering through my window.

 

Lighting flashed just then;

my heart fluttering like a fly.

From my pillowed fort,

I saw anger in the sky.

 

The lighting stabbed the earth,

ending in globes of light;

a curtain of holy fire

banishing the night.

 

Was this judgment?

I asked for proof.

Is this nature

or God knocking on my roof?

Salt

WARNING: Contains bad language.

 

She pulled loose strings

and unraveled my wings,

causing effects

that damaged things.

 

She sprinkled salt

where she saw wounds,

turned faithful friends

into sneering goons.

 

I was gracious.

I bowed out

when I saw

she was having doubts.

 

But, what hurt the most

was the fear I’d see,

painted on a face

I’d just set free.

 

It was deep in her eyes

where her spark used to burn;

In a cold deep pit

filled with fearful concern.

 

She begged me not to hurt her.

I saw the irony in this.

While cracking open my chest,

she was begging me not to resist.

 

She didn’t have to beg.

She didn’t have to ask.

I was no phantom of an opera,

hiding my face behind a mask.

 

I was the man she used to love,

the father of her kid,

and I was the man who’d held her gently

and placed kisses upon her skin.

 

I was an admirer of her fashion,

a recipient of her passion,

and her slightest whim in life

was rewarded with love and reaction.

 

But now, she’s left

and I’m in Limbo,

creating dark art

to heal my ego.

 

She still tosses salt

into my open wounds,

but it’s done with less joy

and will probably end soon.

 

I suppose I should try

to hate her a little less

and move on with my life

and try not to obsess.

 

But, her boredom only means

she’s suddenly growing less amused.

It doesn’t negate the simple fact

I’m unjustly being abused.

 

She portrays me as a beast,

betrays me when she cheats.

I was wronged by a lover,

and it isn’t right that I retreat.

 

She left ME!

There’s no guilt for me to own,

and though I feel some fault,

I wish she’d just leave me the hell alone.

 

Stop asking me for assistance

when you’re living with another.

I don’t care that I’m dependable.

I’m not your stupid brother.

 

You make me oh so weary.

You keep me thinking about giving up.

And if it weren’t because we shared a child,

I’d tell you to shut the fuck up.

 

But, we do–

we do share a child;

She’s a beautiful baby girl,

and she drives us both wild.

 

So for her sake and mine,

I will continue to be civil.

I will suffer your heinous acts

even though it makes my soul shrivel.

 

It’s what we do when we’re in love.

We have to simply struggle on.

And though you think you hate me now,

I’m sure you’re going to miss me when I’m gone.

 

So, put your poisoned cup away

and save the salt for sup.

This is me being civil–

now shut the fuck up.