They always say that
Tomorrow might be better
But I'm still waiting

She talked about my poetry all the time
And she was my poetry all about

                                     ~Andy~

Don't wait, I'm not coming home.
Someday you'll forget me
and I'll forget you.
Don't search for me,
I'm lost.
This emotion is absurdly bitter,
biting into my paper veins; gnashing.
You won't know where I've bled.
Someday, you'll forget my voice
and I'll forget yours.
This moment is a void
flooding with intangible vacuum.
My lungs are ripped open,
did you know how it feels to die?
Don't forget we counted stars
of the starless sky.
I'm drowning but it doesn't matter,
it's not like I can breathe
anymore anyway.
Don't forget you used to tell
bedtimes stories to ghosts
when you thought I fell asleep;
with your hand in mine
the way sun fits into skies
that are not his home.
The miles I've walked away
mean nothing because
I'll turn around and run to you again.
Don't forget I gifted you
the other half of my dream
because you said
you could never dream.
Someday I'll forget
the touch of your fingertips
against mine
and you'll forget mine.
I'm a kaleidoscope spinning
without direction,
shattering and falling
into shards
like a screaming avalanche.
I'm glacial bones,
someday you'll forget
the coldness of my eyes
and I'll forget yours.
The azure of the sky merging
into orange of sun
is only because
they've learned
to be together
and conjure another color.
You and I are oil paints
splattered on black canvas,
a dark vastness
they can't measure.
Someday I'll forget
the number of your scars
and you'll forget mine.
You're stubborn and beautiful,
you'd say you want to take a dive
into the clouds and fly into cliffs.
We're inverted images,
never fitting into each other.
But you're in the mirror
and I'm stumbling into the void.
But you're eyes are still cerulean blue,
mine are still emerald green.
I'll never forget
the soprano of my voice
melting in the tenor of yours.
I'll never forget touch
of your fingertips
through glass doors
or concrete walls.
You'd forget that I still remember
when you told me I'm so deep.
I'm so deep, I drowned you
and you're still gasping for breath,
even after all these years,
I'd know you'll never forget
the precise lengths of my scars.

...
Drew,
the ashtray is full again

1.)  As I write this to you now, the doves were bleeding diamonds
2.)  And to this very day, I still find your name is in every cigarette the ocean's ever smoked
3.)  I wonder if you remembered the time we realized that flowers preferred the taste of blood over water...
4.)  Or the time we sipped some of the moon's tea; and realized that our teacups were gifts from her lover, the sun
5.)  Distance isn't constant, it's overgrown like the lucid garden that I planted in honor of my wolf girl; yet you were the one who tended it with me as if it was your own
6.)  I know, I know; I didn't thank you enough for all those moments as you held me when time melted into puddles at my feet
7.)  I wrote God a simple letter, still haven't heard from him about how you're doing yet...
8.)  "Unfortunately, on some nights my grief tastes all too silver again"
9.)  You feared all the talents that flowered in the dark and I remember the second you realized I too, was one of them
10.)  Your voice shed sapphire fireworks in my room and what I wouldn't give to see that one more time
11.)  Sleepy roses dribbled down the walls of your hospital room whenever I visited and played with your hair
12.)  The milky way shed it's fickle skins-- and sometimes when the dawn's shoulders snap into place I can hear your laughter echoing along the ribs of the sky
13.)  Your name was a natural disaster born on my pink tongue and delivered by my quaking lips and I can feel the clouds turning in their sleep
14.)  I suppose that you were a cigarette yourself
15.)  And you knew I was the lighter, but you hung around anyways
16.)  Every time I see a shooting star, I'll know that it's you in heaven just throwing away your cigarette so you don't get caught...

I think you were my bad habit
...