and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ********** with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Caroline loves the ocean.
Her soul sails on a Carolina breeze.
But her music's in the mountains,
and her heart's back home
where it needs to be.
I'm stuck here
in a Carolina wind,
wading in the ocean
with my heart in Tennessee,
and my mind on Caroline.
Carolina's got everything
a man could want.
Everything he needs.
It's got the mountains and the ocean.
It has a Carolina breeze.
He has everything but Caroline;
everything but Tennessee.
r ~ 6/22/14
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
I heard somewhere that
public schools are going to stop
teaching kids how to write
in cursive.
Guess that means we the dying breed of fancy, huh?
But seriously, America, let's get real.
Cursive is the unspoken *** of penmanship.
Its stops and starts are infrequent;
one neverending pleasure stroke of
ups and downs,
comely curves,
delectable edges,
all made in one fluid motion.
It's always somewhat satisfying to pen...
...no matter how sloppy the technique.
See, children need to learn
how to make love on paper
before they grow up
and slip between the sheets.
It's important to teach them
that it's not a crime to take the time
to practice a little patience and appreciation.
After all, that's how love is maintained, right?
Forget e-signatures.
Forget convenience.
But don't forget the simple fact that
everyone needs a little John Hancock.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
when will i be able to let go?
will i be able to?
if i don't, where will i be?
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
They say to love you first have to love yourself
Well, to know, you first have to know yourself
I'm still looking because I lost my way
somewhere between here and there
The past haunts my present
my present haunts itself
I don't know whether to look right or left
Been looking down, so maybe the only place left to look is up
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
the promise of you was my favorite part of coming home,
knowing my nights wouldn't be spent alone
the promise of you was what got me through
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
two plus two was you
and i'm the fool who couldn't count
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
say you miss me
i wanna feel it when you kiss me
don't just say it baby
show me
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
Look at the clock, it’s not yet two
But if by 1:45 I’m still thinking of you
I’ll get out of this bed and head straight to the car
Just to drive to places I’ve never seen before
And I’ll roll up some love and smoke it all down
Cause I can’t be sane knowin’ you’re not around
You walk in and out of my mind like a wandering kid
And you make me question everything I said and did
While I’m here thinking of you, whether by choice or not
You’re all the way at home not giving me a second thought
And I chose this position and I knew I’d go crazy
But I thought it’d all be worth it cause I’d have you, right, baby?
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC