Fall

The orange radiance of the harvest moon illuminated my room like the glow of a lighthouse.
Lights and mirrors warning ships in the night
And it’s fall and I am waiting
Impatient for the shoe to drop
Too many years of chaos taught me nothing different
And I am restless

After all I am the girl who disappears in the middle of the night
The child on the buses going nowhere just so I wouldn’t have to be home
The young one hoping to be remembered
In the ruins of all that was destroyed
I forgot how to trust

And as I stared up at the brilliance above I couldn’t help but pray I wouldn’t run
Images never seen don’t need to be erased
And they never really were gone
Like little slivers on my skin there were still marks
Or sometimes they lingered like the feeling of a shiver, as the colors of the sky grow dark

Most of the time I just pretended
Under guarded smiles and a muted tongue
I thought the world conspired with me
Allowing me to hide my head under veils thankful to not be seen
But it was me that was hurting all along

After all a tree falling in the forest does make a sound
And even under the comfort of your skin I can forget how to breathe
Or perhaps it's just I am holding the air still inside
Listening for the sound of the other shoe to drop

Gentle

Be gentle with me new love
There have been others before you who didn’t understand
that there is comfort in the space
and shades of purple encircling old wounds are like crisp leaves fading in the fall
And there is really nothing to be afraid of
even raging fires have a path

The cinder cone has been building since the first tear
and it’s still just a shell
And like the vintage ponies going round and round
paint and wood and the timbre of the music
You can hear the laughter
even when the Wurlitzer long since played

The furtive glance betrays my distance
And there is nothing to fear
The warmth of your hand as it guides me back
Like the content cat finding its ray
It comforts like a car sitting in the sun in early spring

Be gentle with me new love
There have been others before you who didn’t understand
that there is no white on the canvass
even as it burns to the touch