You’ve oft said that you don’t need a man
And I would agree wholeheartedly so.
A firebrand such as yourself could never allow herself
to fall under the control of a man who wishes to bind her
to control her
to demean her
to suppress her
to subdue her.
No, you don’t need a man at all.
But tell me true,
How often do you find yourself wanting a man?
To be held on the nights long with anxiety and stress?
To bury your indignations in the warmth of his chest?
To tuck away your insecurities in the comfort of his arms?
To have, among this world full of wretched liars and thieves,
and those who would wish you ill,
An ally, that above all else, will be by your side through thick and thin,
A warrior to whom will always have your back
And ensure your sanity and safety
Not because he feels as if you cannot do that for yourself.
He knows you can.
But rather does so out of the want in his own heart;
the want to make you better
to push you with all the love in his heart towards horizons that maybe
you thought you’d never see.
The only difference between a want and a need is simple
yet it is the most powerful difference you might possibly imagine.
The difference, darling, is choice.
We all need other people in order to strive, to be healthy individuals,
but who we wish to live this life with?
Well, that becomes a choice.
A want.
So no, you don’t need a man.
Far from it.
But maybe one day
Some day,
You might choose to want me.
For love, truest of loves, is not solely
A spontaneous,
Euphoric feeling.
It is a deliberate choice;
A plan to love each other for better
or for worse,
for richer,
or for poorer,
in sickness,
and in health,
and in all of these,

I do.



“What makes you write the things you do about her?”, asked Time.

A long sigh escaped my mouth. How could I possibly even begin to explain that? I would need an inordinate amount of time to barely scratch the surface about you, and even then, it would not be time enough. The way you look when you are lost in your favorite book, and how you would rest those lovely cheekbones on your arm as you fell deeper into your story. The way your freckles would dance in the sun, and at night, would glow and create the most awe-inspiring constellations that any stargazer could ever imagine. The way you brush your hair when you are unsure of yourself, not knowing just how incredible you and your resolve are. Where could I even start?

“Well?”, Time asked again.

I thought again of all the times we shared, all the wondrous memories we created together. That day in the library when I dared to put my arm around you, even for a moment. The night you caught me staring at you, not at all your incredible beauty, but at you, and all the gorgeous things I saw in you that you never would have seen in yourself. The night I laid my head upon your chest, and listened closely to the humbling sound of your heartbeat. Each beat, each draw of breath, brought me deeper in love with that sound, and with you. And to this day, it amazes me that even now, despite the silence, I still find your heartbeat echoing in my own. I knew my answer.

“I write this way for many reasons,” I started. ” For one, it helps me stay in touch with the amazing feelings she made me once feel, hell, still feel. Have you ever met someone that made you question, well, everything? Who you were, what you believed in, what you’d stand for in your life? Secondly, because I am constantly finding new ways to say that three-worded phrase everyone wants to hear in their life. Maybe one night I write about her in her prom dress, and how humbled I felt in her presence. Or I try, in my flawed, human way, to describe what it felt like to hold her hand, or have her in my arms. It doesn’t matter if it’s an eight paragraphed story, or an eight word thought; every piece that I could ever hope to create is my attempt at telling her that I love her.”

“But lastly,” I said, my eyes growing dark, “I write because I cannot give her my love. It is through no fault of our own, but rather, the circumstances of our lives. And so, I write. I create these words to form the pillars of a colossal temple, for her, so that she may visit at any time, for this world can be cruel and unforgiving. I write, for her, vast libraries for her to fall in to, to get those adoring brown eyes lost in. I cover the walls with metaphors and similes for her to find solace in, as if I, in my imperfect form, can ever hope to capture her essence in words. When she looks at the floor, she will find literary gemstones that reflect her imperfect perfection, and when she gazes upon the ceiling, she can find the familiar pattern of her freckles guiding her on her path. If she were to stop and listen, she can hear the echoes of her laughter floating throughout the halls, and if she truly stood quiet, she could hear the faint murmur of her heartbeat, just as it echoes in my mind. I write, so that when she has nowhere else to turn to, she can come and visit me, as I try to express just how strongly and deeply she has moved my heart and soul. She can come to this shrine, in as many pieces as she may find herself, and become whole again. Can you ever come to understand something as precious as that?”

I turned, and looked to Time. “And when the day comes when you finally come for me, these pillars I worked so hard to create, will crumble to dust, as will everything else I have ever known. And from her temple, the dust of me that I poured into each and every word will whisper ‘I love you’ into the infinity of the universe, where it will echo for all eternity, as a constant reminder that for me, it was never over, and to her, my heart will always truly belong.”



I buried you last night.
I do not believe
you even knew my favorite color.
Were my heart not fraught
with the frailties
of the Light,
it would have been much sooner.
But I was given the spark of hope
by the Sun and the Moon,
and I put my faith in you
for far too long.
I found it in myself
to create
for you
a place like this
where my words crafted
elaborate tapestries,
reflecting the memories
that I had come to value
so dearly.
Your laugh would echo throughout
those hallowed halls,
instilling the same sense of wonderment
as it had brought upon me.
I cut precious gemstones
in the shape of you,
so that when were you
to gaze upon the ground
you would see your freckled visage
looking back,
and if you were to gaze up into the heavens,
you would find the pattern of your freckles,
illuminating the night sky like the constellations above.
It may sound strange,
but I see now that they blinded me
to the Shadow that lurked
within your heart.
That shrine
that I had constructed with every ounce
of love
of joy
of hope
that I could dare muster
has not seen your face
in quite some time.
An observation,
have you the time for it;
You told me all there was to know about you.
Your negligent, abusive father.
Your absent, narcissistic mother.
And that pitiful excuse for a partner.
Every struggle you had endured,
I knew.
But not once
did you dare ask about mine.
The day you left,
your goblet was brimming with love
that you knew you did not deserve
while mine lay empty,
not a drop to be found.
So I sealed that place,
but the Light in me
left it so that you could always return
should you have a change of heart.
The Mantle brought me here,
and as Light inverts to Shadow,
so do I.

It was blue,
did you know?

My favorite color was blue.



“Hush, my love.” I’ll whisper, cupping my hands around your warm, tear-stained cheeks.
“Look at me. Look at me. Look into my eyes.” I’ll say, gazing deep into your earthy eyes.
See how, like sapphires, my eyes are?
What do you see?
You see a lake, don’t you?
And on this lake, a lonely pier, that stretches out to the center of this calm, tranquil lake.
You walk, slowly, along the worn wooden planks, feeling the cool, time-worn timber beneath your feet.
Your supple hand, gliding along the snow-covered handrails,
You stop at the edge of the pier, and in your pause, you hear the silence.
There is not a single ripple upon the glassy surface of the lake.
All you feel is the quiet.
The Azure.
You notice minute, glistening snowflakes begin to fall around you, dancing in the frigid breeze,
alighting upon the freckles that dot your glowing body,
but you are not cold.
You are merely an observer in this sanctuary, and awe grips you as peer into the lake,
Clear as crystal,
but you still cannot quite see the bottom.
And so you jump.
The rush of crisp water sets fire to your skin, but you are not in pain.
You are surrounded by indigo currents, and you can feel your troubles washed and sailed away.
And as you sink deeper,
and deeper,
and deeper,
you look up to the surface to see
millions and millions of stars.
Do you see how brightly they burn
for you?
The soothing sound of my voice, like an autumn waterfall,
brings you back from the translucent abyss of the lake,
right back to my eyes.
Your pains, your sorrows, your demons, while all too true,
will never touch you in the depths of my blue.



I felt it again.
That familiar
where you used to be.
I was in the shower
staring down at my hands.
from a day’s work.
I sat in solemn silence
as I watched the lukewarm water
dribble slowly
collecting the cement
and dirt
that eight hours worth
of back-breaking labor
bestows upon you.

It could not clean it.

I suppose.
I looked down to see
the darkened water
collecting at the drain
as the water pelted
the muscles in my back,
sore as ever.
I run my hands
through my dust-laden hair
scratching at my scalp.
The sensation sends ripples
throughout my body
and for a second
all pain had left me
down the drain
with the dirt.

It was then
when it came to me.
Washed over my being
with a quiet whisper.
The ache returned to my bones
the stiffness retreated back
to my neck.
A long
escaped my lips.

I felt it again.
The absence.
That how I know
you are still there.



I had it again.
That dream.
It visits me every now and then
each time
more vivid
than the last.

I find myself at the foot
of a looming mountain.
Surrounding me
are pines
as tall as my eyes can see.
A sharp wind blows through them
as it does through me,
and something within beckons me
into the forest.

It is not long before I come across
a lake
and placid.
There is something deeply sacred
about this reservoir,
and in every iteration of this vision
I stand by the azure edge
observing the calm that washes
over the weariness
of my soul.

As I make my way up this peak,
a light snow begins to fall
but it does not chill me.
The palatial pines begin to thin
and soon
all that lies ahead of me
is a solitary trail.

This is where the dream usually ends.
But not this night.

I reach the summit
and before me lies a small valley
laden with near alien structures
made entirely of ice.
Appearing vacant,
I make my way down the icy slope.

A familiar hum emanates
from these frigid deposits.
Their nature is not known to me
as I run my hand along their smooth edge
a peculiar feeling of recognition
washes over me.

A reflection appears
behind my right shoulder
in the glassy ice before me
and I see myself.

“My son,”
it whispers gently,
“At last.”

The reverie ends.
The previous sequences of this dream
are places that I have visited before
in waking life
but the summit
and all therein,
is unknown to me.




You found the light of the Sun
too garish for your surreptitious ways
so you concealed yourself in the night.
But it is you who are the fool
for the moon is my ally
and its Light has revealed you
for who you truly are.
I ask you,
What have you gained from such malice?
In what regards have I wronged you so
in which you find it in yourself
to betray the only man
who held you when you fell
who gave you a piece of his shattered self
though he knew
through sacred bond
you belonged to another?
I had assumed
that because your own child
had survived the incurable
a malignancy most foul,
that you would have learned the value
of the human life.
The weight of a soul.
But you had not.
You allowed your hatred and anger
to consume you
and you are brimming with nothing
but contempt
and cruelty.
Were I of baser values
I would truly be hurt by this betrayal,
but I am not.
What moves my hand
is that you took your hatred for me
and used it to endanger my allies,
those that I held dear,
an act
of which
I cannot forgive.
You do not even try to understand
and it is your lust for self-gain
and your willingness to carelessly toss aside
those who care for you
that will be your undoing.

I truly believed in you once.
In your Light.
But now,
you are naught but a pitiful wraith
existing solely on the tepid embers
of your feeble Light.

Darkness is all that awaits you, wretch.



What truly inane creatures
human beings are.
They pray to Gods they do not believe in,
beg for miracles without the slightest mote of faith,
and dare to dream of magic
without conviction that they will find it.
I have seen more people
hurt the ones they love,
in the name of love,
than I have seen people
love without limit
without obligation
without compensation.
Love is not something to barter with
nor is it a tool used to inflict pain
and grief
and loss.
The problem lies within ourselves.
We are given
at birth,
a choice.
To be an instrument of Harmony
or Discord.
To say that we are victims of circumstance
robs us of our power to change.
There lies no salvation
in the path of eternal victimizing.
It is only when we cast the same
harsh, critical eye
that we use so fluently on strangers,
upon ourselves
can we ever hope to rise,
to transcend above the Shadow within.

It is in our destiny to change.
To rise above
or to fall below.
It matters not to me
which you choose
but know that the choice
is yours.

And yours, alone.



You think that you know her
because you have seen her bare
but there is more to her
than just the flesh you have become
so enamored with.

You wouldn’t know it
because you care not to look,
but she has a scar just beneath her chin
that she tries to hide.
She got it when she fell off her bike
because her father was never there
to teach her
and her landlady could never quite
find the time.

You ‘love’ the sensuous curve of her thighs
in her favorite pair of jeans
but do you know that it’s to hide
the cuts she left upon herself
when the mother she so desperately needed
was off in the arms of another pathetic excuse
for a man?

Do you have any idea
the caliber of demons she fights
every goddamn night
because every friend she ever had
had given her another excuse
to give up on mankind?

Do you notice the way her soul just
crackles with life
when she is deep in her favorite book
or the way her nose
that she always thought was too big
will puff up when she is upset?

Can you even fathom
the walls she has lowered
for you to call her something as base

No, you cannot.
Nor do you really even care.
All you see is the pinnacle of flesh,
and all I see
is more.
So much

This is the difference between us.



Look to the skies above.
See you the stars?
Do they seek permission to shine
to radiate with every last atom in their bones?
They simply do
as must you.
Were I to ask you
“Name all of the things you love,”
how soon would you name yourself?
Heed my next words closely, young one.
The forces of Light and Shadow are at work here
as they at work within you, too.
Every decision that we make
or do not make
influences this conflict
that has been waged since time immemorial.
I am here to tell you
that your choices matter.
That you must not shackle yourself
to your broken past
for it does not define you
as you may believe it does.
That the future
in all of its unforeseeable glory
is worth the fight.
That within you
lies the power to shake the very foundations
of this world to its molten core.
That you, in all of your shattered dreams
and broken hearts
and insufficient hopes
are enough.
You are Light
and you are Shadow.



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