I feel like I may have to learn karate, or some shit.

“Danielson…..focus.”

Every corner, could it be you waiting?

My guard won’t be down next time.

You saw my spirit.
And now you know.
I cannot be tamed.
I’m not your animal.

3 seconds is all I need.

My guard will be in place.

You can learn a lot from a cat.

When she lived at her home, she had a cat door. And it gave her free choice to go in and outside as she pleased.

But when I moved her to your house, she no longer had the choice. She became timid and afraid to go out, even when the door was left open.

Yet, she transferred her emotions by cuddling with you, and loving you. And you loved her back. I wondered who she even was any more, but I thought her love was sweet.

Her love for you brought her comfort, and she wanted more of it. Annoyingly so, at times.

Until one day you told me she was too vocal, too in need of your attention, and you angrily chased her from outside your room.

She was too afraid to ever go back…

In those last days around you, she feared the consequences of the love she had for you.

She’s back home now, and the first night we were here, she came in late to the living room. Her coat damp from the night’s rain.

I knew, but I didn’t know.

I knew I was driving on the road that led to the pain of our final moment from the first moment I met you.

But I didn’t know that living without the ache of you would feel like dying, while living with the ache of you was killing me.

There’s an emptiness in me I can’t shake anymore.

Today I found myself telling a stranger the way you wrapped your hands around my face, leaving a soreness in my scalp. And a few greenish hues revealed the bruises you left on my arms and jaw.

Your thumb left a faint red mark across my neck. 

My knees and elbows still sting, rug burned from the way you threw me to the living room floor.

The two day old busted lip that left blood in my teeth, also stained the bed’s cover when you threw me down, pulling my arms back, so hard, and harder, and harder, and harder…all as I screamed for you to stop.

I felt the pain of muscle fibers ripping inside my skin. And you wouldn’t stop.

I knew you wanted control over me.

But I didn’t know the kind of darkness that lives in you.

I don’t feel like a person any more, just a shadow ghost in shell shock from two monsters. You, and the one in the mirror who let it happen.

I am not okay, yet. I’ll never wrap my head around it.

I knew I’d always love you, for what ever that’s worth.

But, I didn’t know the cost that will always exist from hating you, too.

You call.

Water falls.

That is all.

Angry Hearts be a’ bleedin’

Because the world stopped reading

Show me the light.

Light show unto us.

Tick…

Tock….

Tik…

Tok….

Eht

Sdnah

Fo

A

Kcolc

Where’s my breath?

Say no more words.

Retreat!

Poetry turns to work

Work turns to lists.

Lists.

Not so bad.

Depending on the sort.

I go for a run to clear my head.

The steep hills of the city trail leave me feeling alive–the skyline of mountains a familiar refuge.

My blood pulses through my limbs, pushing me to a discomfort I fully embrace.

The physical challenge is the only thing that quiets the voices in my head holding tight to frustration and confusion.

I crave the sweet sense of clarity that replaces the unknown.

The run works to ground me–forcing me to connect to my breath. It is all that is real.

At the close of fall, the cold and darkness hint towards the coming winter. There is death in winter. A final dying away of all that was.

I wonder if my final breath will take place during a winter?

At the close of fall, I go for a run and hope I will survive one more winter.

All the words I can’t say.

The temptation to respond to the blinking cursor reminds me to only write to the ghost of you that lives on my paper.

The public eye shows me you are well, so my concerns are merely vain attempts to be your friend.

I’m doing well in most things

I am loved.

I love.

I wake up–

And I can move.

My dearest treasures are safe,

But you are not my friend and I grieve your loss.