June.

June I learnt the piano, to write you a love song.

I’d just begun to play when you held my hand and broke my fingers.

Play, you said June. Go on now, play me a tune.

June I learnt to waltz, to match my steps with you.

I’d just begun to dance when you hit my legs and smashed my toes.

Dance, you said June. Go on now, show me a move or two.

June I learnt to sing, to see your lovely smile.

I’d just begun to bring the air to my lungs when you grabbed my throat and strangled me.

Sing me a song, you said June. Go on now, Stop lying to me.

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it’s time.

On her way to work one morning
Down the path along side the lake
A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake
His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew
“Poor thing,” she cried, “I’ll take you in and I’ll take care of you”
“Take me in tender woman
Take me in, for heaven’s sake
Take me in, tender woman,” sighed the snake

She wrapped him all cozy in a comforter of silk
And laid him by her fireside with some honey and some milk
She hurried home from work that night and soon as she arrived
She found that pretty snake she’d taken to had bee revived
“Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven’s sake
Take me in, tender woman,” sighed the snake

She clutched him to her bosom, “You’re so beautiful,” she cried
“But if I hadn’t brought you in by now you might have died”
She stroked his pretty skin again and kissed and held him tight
Instead of saying thanks, the snake gave her a vicious bite
“Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven’s sake
Take me in, tender woman,” sighed the snake

“I saved you,” cried the woman
“And you’ve bitten me, but why?
You know your bite is poisonous and now I’m going to die”
“Oh shut up, silly woman,” said the reptile with a grin
“You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in
“Take me in, tender woman
Take me in, for heaven’s sake
Take me in, tender woman,” sighed the snake. ―Al Wilson

Happy Birthday, M.

He loves me like a monster,
all teeth and talk and
hiding in the dark.
That’s my specialty—
men with strong bodies
and fragile hearts,
and if you hold them too tightly
they will crumble beneath you
like an avalanche that’s waiting.
Still, he looks at me like all things
beautiful and burning
and we love each other recklessly
with hearts so empty
our names echo against
vandalized walls that say,
“There was someone here before me,
listen closely and you’ll hear their name.”

He has matches for hands,
and I, a paper heart.
Gasoline will drip
from our mouths
and we will call that holy.
We will burn at the stake
and pollute the sky with
smoke and selfishness,
and we will say it was
in the name of a crooked love.
We will burn our own bodies
to the ground and we will
call that sacrifice.
We will tear ourselves open
like there’s something left inside.

Nobody ever taught us how to love. ―Lindsey Hobart