the union of i and i

drawn to press down on these keys
i sit between yellow walls with green trimming
mulling what to write on top of unfinished hardwood floors
i sit at the head of an empty table
i be amongst air that witnessed me grow
even that bread box holds a piece of me

i don't want to hurt

what does 'i've been through a lot' look like...
looks like easter egg painting as the rhinebeck sun creeps in through these windows
or tables with my brothers speaking words only spoken in dreams
a prayer in a san francisco chapel for my brothers on dion's birthday
christmas mornings in a house upstate with a family not mine
looks like bandages over my ear resulting in me looking like a mushroom head
looks like aisle's of pictures sorted by alphabet while an old man gets his fix from this 7 year old body
looks like lying beside your lover in walls of crimson and knowing its not forever
or seeing sadness in your parents eyes because you are just one child and not 5
it looks like the neighborhood kids coming out after me after class
or that kiss in my front seat you stole because it was the only chance we had and then you having a child
it looks like standing in the middle of the circus and denouncing the emperor's new clothes and being thrown out
it looks like bathing in philippine oceans with the abasta woman as the sun is brought down to its knees paying respect to my fallen grandfather
it looks like giant
it looks like groggy days without sleep but working a triple anyway because someone's gotta pay the bills
or one valentine's day when he found out about my ear and broke up with me
it looks like a bright vibrant flower amidst a snow fallen england
it looks like turned leaves beside twin ponds on acres that cradled me when i so needed to be cradled
it looks like towers crumbling down and there's no escape
it looks like perpetual tears down and up freeways from here to sweden
that song on repeat and sorrow and the weight of the world clinging to my backbone
looks like making the best cake you can with breadcrumbs as the sole ingredient
a mountain in japan that felt never ending
violation on a brazilian street, marking me a foreigner
a lake in canada that almost swallowed me
fresno lonely days and drives cross country to destinations unknown
like my sister's head in a purse of tears
my mother's heart in a casino of numbness
my father's pride on an empty golf coarse
its looks like being told you are not enough, you'll never be enough
and making sense out of it anyway
it looks like having to be the better person
even when it aches

i don't want to hurt

bouquet, marry me
choose me

tomorrow when i wake up
my thought will be on me
it will not be interrupted by pain
i've had my fair share
i'm ready for change
marry. me. bouquet.