When the pitter pat of your mouse heartbeat fades utterly away
As easily and distinctly as throes of thunder in the stormy distance,
I may go - in melancholy, there will be nothing else to do or say.

And once the rains froth on warm cement and the winds sashay
Across the treetops, and of you there is a startling absence,
I will know the pitter pat of your mouse heartbeat faded away.

It will sting, surely, to wake up every Monday through Sunday
Knowing you are not here, but I will remember your brilliance
And I may go - in melancholy, there is nothing else to do or say.

Still, the years will fly by and someday my mind may neglect to replay
Those memories of importance, and I will forget your presence,
Even as the pitter pat of your mouse heartbeat has faded away.

Then the world will move on and storms will return. In the midst of the fray
I will arrive, on the way to my own departure, a mind full of grievances.
I may go anyway - in melancholy, there can be nothing else to do or say.

And while there may be some last moment of frenzied grief, a ray
Will eventually split the clouds open; of you, I will recall some semblance,
And the pitter pat of your mouse heartbeat will roar, not fade away.
Then, finally, I will go - in lieu of melancholy, there will be much to do and say.

Wrap me in a warm embrace,
Kiss me softly on the side of my face.
Tell me that this will never end.
Tell me we will forever be friends.
Your fingers intertwine in my hair,
Sometimes I think what we have isn't fair.
Heartbreak and sorrow,
Who know what we we'll say tomorrow?
Look at me in the eyes and say,
"Just for you, I will forever stay."

Stop reading this immediately,
If you are warm to the soul.
Stop reading this soon as possible.
Your insides will catch fire like coal.
I’m merely dead.  I’m nothing but walking flesh.
Like pieces of broken-edged chipped shells swallowed up by the apathetic sea.
Stop reading this, this instant,
It’s my entire synthetic mind,
Slowly becoming a fractured aching hole.
These perplexities and burdens are only for me to grasp,
Always mine to keep.
Hope is a misused word; I’ll throw it off,
Gone from my vision, until it’s off so distant.
Stop reading this immediately,
For my thoughts are infectious.
Doleful is my disease.
Life is a beautiful music box never meant for me.
Echoing its prolonging tune.
Stop reading this immediately.
I've smashed the box,
The music has stopped.
Morbid has taken its toll.

Curtains fluttering gently, warm breeze floating in through the wide open window, humid the smell of summer evening, one of those intense nostalgic kinda smells, and the sound of people laughing in the gardens. Your arms wrapped around me, our bodies touching naked. The sun slowly going down on us, your lips breathing hot breath on my neck licking. Yeah that’s what I love about the summer, humid hot sticky sweaty sex during the day lying naked, smoking drinking sleeping waking fucking eating and then sleeping some more. And then in the evening we will shower, I’ll put on some jeans and a shirt, you wear a skirt and some heels, I want to show you off to the world.

The evening was awake full of history
wind pressing against warm skin
reminding us
that forgetting would be too long
and


we didn't have a sail
or a boat
or more importantly an anchor
to remove or ground us in this swelling sea


I looked over your head wishing for sunlight
so we could go back to yesterday and the day before

so that maybe we would have never yelled so loudly
on the train tracks
watching humanity tear itself apart
on each side of us

we got lost in that
we lost everything we said we never would
and now these buildings aren't our friends
and their structure is pushing us out like gates

and soon,
I'll become a stranger to another town
walking without your shadow underneath empty street lights
talking to the moon about things only you heard
about why I thought the world is ending
and how I planned on

surviving
(your hand helped the most)

tonight we said goodbye in tangled fists and heartbeats
tonight I shed away the secrecy of humming words I told you while you were sleeping
far away dreaming of me
I grabbed you like it was the last time, the way I always meant to hold you

tonight I sang to you in years
locked behind eyes you so swore chambered the sun
(on couches and floors)
watching you circle around me
like the earth
steady in your footsteps
in cold spring winds

waiting..

but Im already in Portland missing you
walking streets and counting trees I wish I could show you
because you're not here
where I think I need you

Im already reading your book about the sand
and imaging the way you smile in the desert

tickling scars you gave me on a bed
wasted wine and razor blades
(now twisted like metallic woven thread pink and past)

Lucky You ,I tongued my lips
(felt those)

parted teeth
(jesus christ)

that red rust

pain killing love
love killing pain
(circling)

fuck the way you made my thighs sweat

but,
your arms are tied around me now
and Im promising myself I won't forget
amongst the screaming silent trees

your heart is beating faster..


but,
rest assured..
'your emotions are heavy,
I'll keep them inside my chest'

When the summer dripped through my fingers
Like the last drops
Of the ocean on my skin
he smiled at me, a sweet and warm smile,
And whispered
"Love my sweet Winter for me"

So the cold winds approached
And the leaves withered, died, and were cast away
And Winter mourned
Knowing the deaths written because of her name

But I, following the whispered guidance of my favourite passing time,
Embraced the
cold nights wrapped in warmth
the icy winds pushing me closer to those near to my heart
the harsh tear drops which refreshed, replenished, revived my dry and barren soul

And Winter, noticing the love
Warmed up a little each day
And on her last day
Breathed a warm sigh

And whispered, "I love you, and thank you for loving me"

She kept me warm

so i gave her my heat

and she re-gifted it

and left

and i was cold.

He tucks me in

with sweet words

that evoke crinkled eyes

and upturned corners

and someone will be lucky

to be his love

someday

She knows the sound

my tears make as they fall

through the ground

because hers have fallen the same

and she knows the taste of pain

when a heart breaks this way

because hers was broken the same

so she indulges me

and loves me

and carries me through the day

and i don’t tell her everything

but she feels my misery

She caught the choke

around my throat when

i didn’t know how to live

and she picked me up

and told me to walk

gave what she had to give.

I’m not fixed,

but I’m still alive,

and she is responsible for that.

He validates me

when i feel i must be crazy

and worthless

he tells me i’m not

without any prompt

and says he’ll always be

Big Brother to me

She sticks around

even though I’m obviously crazy.

She’s already seen me go through my worst.

She just listens and takes it in

and we go for a walk

and another day passes

while she is my friend

"Bye", I said.
Over the phone, which was foolish.
You were entitled to more than that.
It was foolish to dwell on the inevitability of last days together.
For fifteen months I waited and doubted.  
A beautiful hummingbird on my finger.
You never flew off.
Even when coldly advised you to do so.
Even when I had little to feed you.
Mesmerized by you, you delicacy.
But damn it all, it's ended.
I shook you off my finger and stuck up the other.
Tonight we bed down miles apart.
Lonely alone, and lonely in company.
And our love burned, but stung me sorely.
A man never repaired and prepared.
Old love scars that didn't heal.
Always frightened and delirious.
Letting my wells run dry.
So much of me hopes you call for me in the morning.  
And come despite my cold heart and shoulder.
Reject my last word, my deadly three letters.
Persist as I resist.
Stopping only when we find our wings woven and our nest warm.

The moon peaks,
catching the glimmering
snow, the rustling trees
 
But I long for the cabin,
the cabin up ahead
 
Kissing the night,
as she would me,
with warm firelight
 
A small crack offers entrance
and, as in before,
I sit beneath the floorboards
 
Notes drift through the cracks,
and soft thumps echo down:
the ghosts of dancing feet
 
I catch them in stride
 
They show me glimpses,
but only glimpses
 
To reach, to touch, my
still heart yearns to
join the lonely dancer
 
But what would she feel?
 
The slip of one hair?
The chill of silent breath?
The crawl of closed eyes?
 
No.
 
Better to stay, sleeping,
beneath the floorboards