The Price We Pay

That incomprehensible debt

Owed by all of us, indefinitely,

With infinite interest and impossible fees

Crushes us beneath the weight 

Of a hundred billion "will be"s and "won't be"s,

And all those heavy "may be"s.

It chokes us with the "is"s and the "are"s,

Punishing us for the "wasn't"s and the "were"s.

It tortures us with the "if"s,

And convinces us to do it to ourselves.

It rips and gnaws and tears us to pieces,

Driving us to kill ourselves and each other.

It sings to us that keening song

In the wails, the shrieking sobs,

And we are compelled to join.

A debt to pay that unfathomable price,

A delay of those inevitable dues -

For grief is the price we pay for love,

And we all love something we'll lose.

Off the Planet

I think that I fell off the planet.

For just a minute back there,

It was as if I wasn't present;

I was neither here nor anywhere.

I wish I'd held on tighter

And embraced the gravity,

But I was too busy thinking:

They're better off without me.

I think I fell off the planet,

And I didn't even say goodbye.

Which, in hindsight, is silly,

Because I was always somewhat nearby.

I wish I'd kept in contact.

The regret aches deep in my bones,

And I wish I'd figured out sooner;

Falling off planets leaves one alone.

I'd like to get back on the planet

And stop listening in from afar.

Transmissions can be distorted,

And the messages get quite bizarre.

I'm tired of drifting through empty space

And tired of feeling this lonely.

I forgot that we all need our friends,

And for that I am terribly sorry.

A Scar on my Forehead

I have

A scar

On my forehead.

It's in the middle,

Almost dead center,

Between my brows.

And I

See it

Every single day.

I notice it

Every single day.

It has been there

Since I was a child;

More than a decade, and yet

Not a single person

Not once

Not ever

Has asked

"How did you get that scar?"

Without prompting

Without me pointing it out

Without first hearing mention of it.

Did they simply not notice?

Or are they too polite to ask?

I think

The former

Must be true,

Because once I

Say "Look at this scar on my forehead,"

They look surprised

Curious

Even taken aback.

Perhaps it is politeness

But I doubt

Everyone

Can feign shock so well.

So I think

To myself

"If no one notices the scar on my forehead,"

"What else do I see"

"Every day"

"In the mirror"

"That no one else sees?"

For of course

If the scar on my forehead

Goes unnoticed,

Then so too must my acne

My enlarged pore

My skin tags

My moles

My stretch marks

My stray hairs.

Perhaps, even,

Others do not see them at all

Even with close examination.

Or, perhaps,

They are seen but not known?

Marks, flaws,

To me.

And to others?

As invisible

As the scar

On my forehead.