I’m such an awful person
And I’m so sorry  

You deserve so much better

The smell of cigarette ashes
     is for me.
Musty, slow, deep and strong,
Breathe in gradually,
But breathe.

The scent reminds euphoria,
     of smokers long past.
A past even more so.

So if you catch me breathing in deep,
When you let out a lung of smoke,
     Remember I am just remembering.

It was my first time
In the city.
It was very loud,
And very crowded.
I was a grain of sand
In an ocean of salt water.
No one looked at me.
No one smiled.
I wandered aimlessly
Through the mass of people.
I bought a slice of pizza
That tasted like grease and tomatoes,
Leaving four dollars and 38 cents
In my pocket.
As I left the pizza place
I noticed a man.
He was very sad looking,
And horribly thin.
He was all alone
With only a plastic grocery bag.
I looked at him
And the city died.
My interest in buildings
And shops
And pavement,
Gone.
Lost in the broken eyes
Of one man.
I went up to him
And I said "hello."
He looked at me
And gave me a smile,
But his eyes were still empty.
I asked him
If I could give him a hug,
And it seemed that his eyes
Exploded.
He nodded yes,
And I took him in my arms.
He was very cold
Under two jackets
And the hot Boston sun.
As I pulled away,
He said to me
With tears in his eyes
"Thank you."
I simply extended my hand
With four dollars and 38 cents in it.

Can I have you?

Can I have your morning eyes

and late night yawns?


Can I have your deep sighs

after long days of work,
and joyous laughter

from watching your

favorite shows?


Can I have your frightening

holler when you’re angry,

and your low moans when

you feel pleasure?


Can I have the tears that

streak your face when
you’re down,

and the heart that beats

within you to keep you alive?


Can I have every part of you

I romanticized you
to the point where
the knives you pressed
into my skin
began to look
like Cupid’s arrow

They say it's
depression.
I say it's
not.
I am not sad
Or blue
Or even
Slightly
Despondent.
I am just
here.
Nothing.
E m p t y .
N  u  m  b  .

I remember a day
When you hurried over to me
In quite a rush.
"Have this."
And you extended your hand.

A single die fell into my palm.
It was cold, and hard, and a plain cube,
White, with 21 black dots on it.
Lifeless and inanimate,
It meant the world to me.

I remember a day
When you hurried over to me
In quite a rush.
"Have this."
And you extended your hand.

Your heart fell into my palm.
It was warm and barely beating,
A sloppy mass of tissue and life.
Broken and battered,
It meant the world to me.