It is April which means it is National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) and that I have been scribbling down words into notebooks all week. Of course, I do that anyway, but this month I’m doing it with a purpose, so it feels different. I’m not posting these everyday because I’m willing to recognize that I do not have the time or energy to commit to that, but I will post a weekly roundup. Some of these will be short, some of them will be the opposite of short. I’ve given myself permission to write whatever I wish even if that whatever is a silly haiku. This month is about me. I’ve declared it.

April 1

I want to pretend
that this day can end
without my life
being irreparably rent.

April 2

You hold my hand,
grasping tightly
as I fall away.
I touch your cheek
knowing this will
end poorly if
I choose to stay.

April 3

Here we sit on the moon
looking out over the universe
munching on popcorn, and
remembering our times on earth
times spent laughing, and
wondering what the future
would hold. But now we know,
and we can let go of the things
we so desperately hoped for.
We can say our goodbyes,
and dive out into the sun.

April 4

If there was a box
full of endangered monsters
would you open it?

April 5

It’s never easy
saying goodbye to old friends
taken way too soon.

April 6

When nothing seems right
I recall it never was.
There is not a magic time
to return to. There were
always troubles, always
hints of strife. Moving forward
is the only way to survive,
to move backward,
is to give up, to die.

April 7

This is my journey:
knowing things will often
go horribly wrong, and that
there is very little we can do
to turn dark skies blue again.
The bad will frequently spend
more time here than the good,
but you are mine, and that
makes that realization
much easier to bare.
We may not make it to the end,
but that is okay because,
right now, in this moment,
you are exactly what I need.
I may sometimes hide, and
there are moments when this is
all more than I can breathe in,
but you know, you understand,
and we continue in this place of
less than lovers, more than friends.
Sunsets come, and the sun
does not always rise the next day,
but with enough patience
it will come back eventually. Were
the world to explode, igniting
the night into flames, we would
continue to make it through,
better off, because we could
recreate things to be the way
they should have been in the beginning.
They would still be imperfect,
there would still be pain and days
when getting up felt impossible,
but they would be ours to ruin,
that would not fall to anyone else.
Existence takes a brave countenance,
and the ability to say no exceedingly
more than you say yes. Life is meant
to be an intense experience,
and it is intended to be relished,
nothing less. There is little better
than realizing you have found the
ability to continue on. Even if we
wake to nothing tomorrow
we can say that we  gave this our all,
that we got the best, and gave
the best. We found forgiveness,
we found hope in each other.
This is my journey:
understanding that torture
makes bliss all the sweeter, and
that without pain, there would
be no gauge with which to measure
the fullest extent of our most
intense pleasure. Holding on
to the past loosely so as not to
excite it, not inviting in fear
when I know I cannot fight it.