on the island

Bottles wash ashore,
twisted paper inside them.
I decide to read,

and through scanning them
discover that there are arms
waiting to hold me?!

Maddened by the green
glass vessels that beckon my
eyes to their contents,

I grab them one by
one and throttle their wet necks
before I smash them.

They shatter and crack,
my paradise littered with
sharp, hidden edges.

When I least expect
my dancing feet to find them,
my soles are bloodied

and my gait is changed.
I damn those bottles- those dreams-
those arms that let go-

and wander into
the salty tide- fresh, new cuts
pounding with my heart.

if you love something...

I was not a bird
to be set free- to see if
I'd return to you.

I never had wings.
No one taught me how to fly.
And then you left me.

Not once did you see
we were miles above the earth
with the time we shared...

miles above what's an
ordinary sort of love.
We circled the stars

until you let go.
I did not take to the wind,
I dropped like a rock-

fell at terminal
velocity away from
a wonderful thing.

When I hit the ground,
on the ground I stayed, looking
up at you. You flew.

So I don't return-
not because I wasn't yours.

You, simply, weren't mine.