he said he really loved me
so i said, if you did,
then how come it just stopped?
he said, how could you say that. i still care!
 i'd just laughed then. but this morning i remembered,
and cried you see, love is such a strange word
you can use it for any sin.
and noone quite knows what it means
i woke up a little after midnight
the wind was screaming furiously outside
and the window glimmered
with shiny drops of rain in the moonlight
dear dream
how i chased you
and you slipped away
dear joy how jealously i gaurded you
yet you were lost
dear love how i bribed, threatened and reasoned with you
and yet you left
i must periodically revisit
the beginning
the scenes of the darkyears of my life.
the bleak years.
the hopeless years.
the years of helplessness, weakness,
painlessness, of glorying in evil,
of accidental humiliation
and mute injury.
if only to remind myself
how powerful the lumbering giants of childhood still are,
how unhealed are still the wounds,
which scream when the amazon brushes against it unawares,
how cowardly is still my heart as a flinch
and almost freeze when the lion growls up close without warning.
how fragile is recovery
and the illusion of the self remade self
and how full of grace