poem - practice

[lovessong]

sometimes i think i want resurrection
only i am not
in the mood for dying
and so
i when i wake up the next day
i am not reborn
but my hair is blue
and so are all the fixtures in my bathroom

if i want to
find myself new
tomorrow
what do i have to kill in myself today?
what is already dead in me and just not yet buried?

i cannot help it
i cannot love forever

the stories that i thought would haunt me
do not echo through anymore
but i still listen to the echoes from my memories
of the echoes of five years ago
because i have not found new ghosts yet

i thought a mortgage would be a settling influence
actually, i thought
i was already settled
and a mortgage would be confirmation

but i feel blurry around the edges
as if someone new is seeping in from underneath

and i have been instructed
to let go
let go and let her through
do not worry that she is not
precisely you
because you are not precisely yourself anyway

i thought that i could count on myself
to at least keep telling the same story

this poem is
making me cry and i do not understand
because if it is true it is
good
my patterns have not saved me
and i want to
break through

but still i am sad.