Forgiving gift

She bounces once back twice forward
stiff, her feet on a stretched high rope
that swings teasingly with her weight
at each turn of her feline waist.

She had paved her way into this,
with a small fist full of mistakes
and the other of bad chances,
vanished return in the distance.

The frost of her disposition,
the sharp tongue used for ascension,
I knew the sting of its incision,
also the stake in her motion.

If I draw hand across her back,
a net will shape under her sight
free to fog in a damp release
granting her a steadier path.

Hardest is forgiveness, and yet
it is sweetest to the giver.

Friend don't despair - version poem

I have been fighting for the words to say,
anything that could push you the right way.
And I am disappointed to state
no text could heal your widow grief
so I didn't get that far anyway.

Here goes:

This sucks!
This isn't fair,
nor is it reasonable
and you have the right to hate
everything!...
right now.

Life's a devious bitch!
When you get a little air to breathe
it punches you right in the nuts
and knocks you senseless down
to taste the dust from the ground!

Love hurts!
Love is as hurtful
as living is deadly!
We weren't build to be treated this way,
our fragile existence
is torn into pieces
with the whims
of this treacherous adventure!

Please, please...though
don't forget
how much yesterday felt
worth it all.
Sit on your fingers for just a while,
gorge on chocolates
and as many indulgences
as you can find...
but remember
life will still be here
waiting for your return.
You count many people on your corner,
holding the towel and wincing with the punch
I know you can count on me,
when you decide to fight back.

Remember,
for every present
there was a past
and there will be a future,
and the laws of physics thus dictate
(due to the continuity of state)
that better days will come.

The mist nymph

Two glaucous lights
pierced the dense mist.
A breath of wind,
muffed a voice sing,
pushed violently
the naked branches of bistres
that caged out the moon
and alabaster rags
revealed in a pair.

The air shifted,
cutting icy at my face,
so did all branches,
the rags at me pointed
and I could distinguish:
"Hold him!"

My feet disobeyed
the ticker pumping
in angst to move away.
Down at my ankles
I saw dirt hands graspin'.
I looked up again
to stun at the approach
of this gleam of a ghost
towering over me
like a hologram
of a past unsealed.
"Hold him!"

Her voice brought tears
to my trembling knees.
Sweetened by a longing
that regret imprisons.
"Hold him!"

I heard of the tale
of a mist in February,
he had gotten out for wood
after a love ruffle
over the frost of the moon
and never was heard off
until this day.

She had lost her might
searching the next nights
until her body gave
still dressed in the gown
she wore back then.

Seems she searches today!

Her lanterns recognized
my understanding gaze.
With a sigh of relief
she crossed through me
leaving a taste
of daturas and moss.

In shivers I woke
and felt your warmth,
so I grabbed it tight,
cautious not
your dream to rob,
laced myself at its side
"I held you!"
while you are mine
to find.