Untitled, unrevised. sept. 26, 2011

We live in short bursts,
         weekend visits,
THRIVE on hard goodbyes,
      you are lost to me
for now
        as we are the receding tides,
stroking back and fourth,
 licking the shore
          we lack permanence
     the bone dry affection
                               constricting
as I open up then retract
        retreating back to what I know
              the taste of alone on the back of my tongue,
but I refuse to swallow.
        

Masquerade

It masks the sadness,

stuffing it into crevices

but it is always there dancing with intracate masks

and as the happiness is retreating,

it feels like our time is fleeting and it attacks

revealing that it dosen't go away

it is hidden, forgotten in fumbling hands

no matter how strong we stand we are torn

seperated by miles, minutes, and hours

trying to stretch our love to cover the inches

but the distance is thinning and

the misery is winning

without the constant supervision

that can't be provided

I need a map,

to guide me through the masquerade

or a way to permanently

cloak the pain.