Monthly Archives: July 2016

Solar Flare

I tumbled off a cliff into your arms.
You swore you’d keep me safe from harm.
Twenty steps away: the ocean spray.
I’m so ashamed of my choice that day.

I held you, burying scars
from all the promises of our previous wars;
every false laugh an arrow to the heart,
but I just wanted a fire to start.

I wanted to feel the burn;
the flame and warmth a way to learn.
It was so cold. I just needed relief.
I forgot solar flares do more than just heat.

You burned me to ash. I crumbled to dust,
my old life gone with a single touch.
Everything stopped, even my heart.
There’s a little bit of glory in all new starts.

But glory doesn’t stay amidst bitterness and decay,
and every time my heart raced, it was anger, not grace.
You danced a great dance. Oh, so light on your feet!
But every dance ends, and ours did in defeat.

There’s no such thing as destiny.
We weren’t “fated” or “meant to be.”
Still, there’s grace in the effort; in building a dream,
but our grace was more drunken tragedy.

I tumbled off a cliff into your arms.
You swore you’d keep me safe from harm.
Twenty steps away: the ocean spray.
I’m so ashamed of my choice that day.

Addicted to Your Sin (Poem)

From Seven Ways to Break a Heart | James Avery Fuchs

I didn’t know love could taste like teardrops falling.
I didn’t know I could feel this kind of alive.
I only knew romance as a plot in a story;
cardboard pages, flimsy as goodbyes.

I didn’t know the ups and the downs:
the rewinds, redrawn parallels, the rebounds.
I didn’t know bleeding out felt just as invigorating
as the first blush of sun in the morning, waiting.

You taught me a whole new melody,
a red-lined, redacted symphony;
more than a chorus, less than a cacophony
early morning mid-range rhapsody.

And yeah, maybe I’ve forgotten the songs I used to sing,
but misery makes for terrible harmony.
I’ve spent the last four years trying to forget my memories,
and even if I break, at least I’ll feel what I bring.

The match burning beneath my skin,
filling me up with fire, every breath a thrumming sin,
tells me there’s more to this play we perform in;
a drum beating down my spine, 4/4 time in rewind.

Allegretto to prestissimo,
my heart races until I crumble.
I’ve forgotten my name. All of life has been so tame
until you tumbled my fortress into a stream.

All past-tense assumptions fade.
I never knew it could be this way.
In a life spent between 0 and 10,
This is what a thousand tastes like.

Exhilarating, heart-breaking;
so much intensity I’m afraid of breathing:
If this is just chemicals in the brain,
it’s a high I never want to go away.

Crash and burn; hit the ground:
seven steps from here to heartbreak.
Nerve endings jagged, breathing ragged,
I remember the way you taste.

You’re the song I adore, and I’m panting for more.
These highs and lows won’t quit.
I’ve spent the last 12 days recalling the ways
your touch could make my breath hitch

And when the beat drops and the rollercoaster stops,
I’ll be lining up to ride again.
You’re the music in my brain I can’t quite place,
and I’m addicted to your sin.