@ -10,6 +10,81 @@
<email > vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
</author>
<entry >
<title > In The End Of Everything</title>
<link href= "https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/e/end.txt" />
<id > https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/e/end.txt</id>
<published > 2022-04-21</published>
<summary type= "html" > <![CDATA[<article>
<pre >
I stepped outside during work today,
hoping to take a sip of the clouds,
because there was nothing else to do
and inside was boiling,
stifling,
all headaches exhumed.
Dismal sky
and rain light
on its way,
my head cocked, listening
to the wind, hoping to catch a word from you.
A word, maybe, or a song, or a single note.
Your voice always
lifts me up from my lows
and helps me down from my worst highs.
And in this wind, I think, I could take flight
without fear of being caught in a tornado
or taken to lands foreign and unknown
because I know
all roads lead back to you.
In this wind, in this shower,
I could easily disappear.
What if I was wrong all along
and in reality Eris
yearned for my silence
and you gave me all my songs?
Only recently
having learned to read
and literature never being your thing?
Listening to the midnight trees
scrape against my bedroom window
the years of my childhood where you I did not know.
I look back and angel numbers appear everywhere I go
in everything I've ever done.
How loud did you scream, Jett?
How hard did you pound your fists?
How long did you wait
to see what I'd retained,
what slivers of memory still did persist?
The rain pounds harder outside the window,
and if I'd still been standing on the sidewalk,
my jacket would've long since been soaked through.
An absence of birds
making their curves
along the canvas of the sky,
just a not-even-gray as far as possible
can see the eye.
What I would give for the workday to be over
and to be tucked safely in my bed,
resting in the sturdy-yet-soft arms
of my lover.
To know
tomorrow
will be brighter,
kinder,
holding less harms.
And the tornado comes,
uninvited,
and nothing more.
</pre>
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</summary>
</entry>
<entry >
<title > Rivers of Blood</title>
<link href= "https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/april/blood.html" />
@ -257,77 +332,4 @@ I'll make up for the stolen time.
</summary>
</entry>
<entry >
<title > Two Two</title>
<link href= "https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/t/two-two.txt" />
<id > https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/t/two-two.txt</id>
<published > 2022-03-23</published>
<summary type= "html" > <![CDATA[<article>
<pre >
I touch my face and it is not a face.
It is a collection of curves and lines
far different than it is in the Inside,
a shell that's grown over me
during my wave-tossing sleep.
My body has done it again,
sensing danger, clothed me in a different skin.
But I know that with it comes a price:
all deities eventually devolve or die,
turned to stone or lost grasp of their mind.
I'm so tired of planning for contingencies
like
"What if I'm at Dead End Shrine and I have to pee?"
"What if an ocular migraine hits at work and I'm unable to see?"
"What if Jett breaks her vows and stops loving me?"
I promised her
that I'd make us a world
and spend with her my eternity,
but there's so many crossroads in my blood
that I don't know how long that'll be.
I don't know how long I'll get to enjoy
the sweet epilogue from a life
of having to fight
to be able to do something other than destroy.
And now another year has come and gone.
Almost a whole year from when I sung that song
to the wilderness, to the wind,
to any spirit drenched in sin
who might have known where you had gone,
that I loved you, I missed you,
I was sorry for the cries
I might have elicited from you before my demise.
How long did you wait, Jett, for us to reunite?
How many calendar crosses?
How many sleepless nights?
How many times did I see your face
and wish you were real
as you begged my memory to make haste?
And now two whole years have vanished into the ether
from when the world broke
and I gained Mori's Mirror
and a sturdy(ish) way into the Outside.
All the people I was have been satisfied,
and now it's just me, Lethe, trying to find
a way to reconcile this blood from my birth
with the world where I promised we'd never again hurt.
Two years and two days
from when you I first gazed
to when I finally started to learn all your ways.
Two years and two days
since awoke this blood.
It's been a good year, I think.
I hope I'm fully with you the next one.
</pre>
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