If I could
I would uncork it
and whisper
“I’m sorry”
as I drained every thought of you
glugging
down the sink

but instead
I will sit
and let the wind carve you out of me.
I’ll welcome the rain
in great sweeps,
and beg it,
to bleed me dry
of you

and maybe the sun will come up
on a day
that it doesn’t hurt so much,

and warm the stone that will become
my heart,
beat smooth
by the drum of disappointment
from the fall

And you’ll just be this beautiful,
distant thing that happened,
but never to me

The water that separates from the sea,
someday you will be together again

The tide is out for now and you are on your own,
to feel the sun’s breath through your hair
or the cold kiss of winter in your veins.
To reflect back the evening starlight
and paint within yourself
a universe of your own

The tide is out for now
and you are separate from the sea
but someday,
it will rush back in to greet you

It will fold over you like an old friend,
all your memories
all your stars
sinking into its depths,
and when it pulls back again
there will be no way to tell
where you end,
and the ocean begins

New tidepools will bloom
to feel the turning of our Earth, and its moon,
Over and over again

And we are not asked to agree
that it will be easy,
but we are asked to be grateful
for the tug of each moment on our hearts.
To make the most of the time we’ve been given
and to choose, relentlessly, to live

And be unafraid when it ends

I opened my heart a little too much, I think,
digging around for something
I thought I’d lost.

I widened it too much at the edges
and you fell in
and I can’t see the bottom from up here
and now I’ve no idea,
how I’m supposed to get you out

Inevitably we will all die with unanswered questions in our heads,
folded quietly like paper notes that have sunken
to the bottom of the sea.

Take advantage of this unique opportunity,
to live the questions now.
While we have lips to speak them
While the adventure still lies
only in wait,
of our curiosity

I reach
beneath the hood of my heart
and thoughts pour out,
sandstone and lilac and auburn,
amber, coffee, crimson,
warm like buckets of paint left in the sun,
their lids off,
all different colors weaving
into streams of vivid pictures
of me and you

Have a seat in the audience tonight
beneath the black, moonless sky
our stage illuminated, only,
by the brilliance of your eyes

Have a seat in the audience tonight
and watch the acrobats
tread the tightrope
of the-thing-they-think-they-can’t-do

See the hoops of each thing you’re avoiding
be set ablaze,
flames hungry and glittering in the gloom
as the roaring lion
leaps through them

Hold your breath,
as the bearded lady decides
she is more marvelous without the smooth chin
she always wanted,
and listen,
as the crowd cheers on

Watch the world’s strongest man
sit down to share
his greatest weakness
as he lifts his grand arms to dismantle
all that haunts him
late at night,
when he’s alone

Grip the edge of your chair
as the jugglers
shuffle their daggers,
knives piercing the light around them,
each blade, a different failure,
tips glinting with defeat
and yet
not one
will make them bleed

The trapeze artist falls,
their eyes closed,
arms outstretched and trusting
they’ll find a bar to hold

The man in the canon
ignites his own fuse,
the sinking in his gut
eclipsed by his dream
of soaring through the sky.

And the drinks tonight are glowing with courage,
warm on your lips
without a drop of alcohol.
We’ve spun the cotton candy
from all your worries
mixed with air,
so you can feel them
melt to nothingness
on your tongue

Have a seat in the audience tonight,
and witness every single thing
you have ever been too afraid to do
be done,
and watch
everyone and everything
come out the other side
alive