Fingerprints on coffee cups,
Stale air, exhaled,
still circulating through the ducts, and
Crumbs pushed into cushions
that vacuums will never find.
We can try to clean up
the mess we made
but there will always be pieces left behind.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
Stalemate, double-date;
Go ahead-
Keep tempting fate.
Cross your fingers
That I'll take the bait.
Sideways glance,
check and mate.
Your move, Darling.
I'll sit
And wait.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
Classification
always seems
slightly beyond
our capabilities.
"But, Darling,
(I asked)
*what am I to make
of you and me?"*
You requested
I be patient-
that we would
wait and see,
*"But, Sweetheart,
patience is a virtue
that never quite
made sense to me."*
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
We find
intoxicating
power in pursuit;
While we ignore
the approaching
weakness of need.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
Eyes like a screen door
voice like a sigh
we talked through
those spaces
for hours
but you never
offered to let me
come inside.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
Dark hallway,
cold wooden floors.
From opposite sides
of the glass
we both watch
my hips
as they swing
back
and forth,
back
and forth,
back
and forth.
They rock silently
and I can tell you're
counting the exact
number of steps
it will take to move
you closer to me.
And for the fifth
time today
you wonder what
you'd say
if only I invited you
to speak.
And for the third
time today
I'm staring at your lips
and wondering how
they taste.
And for,
what seems like,
the millionth time
today
neither of us move.
What a waste...
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
Maybe we both
forced out
predictions of love
And lust
and everything in between.
But
it's not that
we ever really
wanted to see each other
as much as
we simply
wanted to know
how much the other
wanted to be seen.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
These days
I spend
a lot of time
not exactly wanting
to die
but just
to be dead, maybe,
to rest.
There's a difference,
or at least
there used to be.
I am regret.
I am self-defeat.
I think about
thinking
more than I
used to.
I guess Depression will do that to you.
My body hurts.
Aches, actually.
It's constant.
In my head,
dull static
But louder.
Thumping rhymically.
Like, really ******* loud
all the
******* time.
Things are heavy.
My arms
weigh far too much.
My lungs
are concrete.
They pump
stale air.
My spine is sawdust.
My spit is mud.
Didn't my eyes
used to be
more blue?
Depression is an ******* who will do this to you.
My words
used to be sharp
and loud.
Electric and
strange, they
tumbled out
of me,
like machine
gun fire,
a swarm
of bees.
Now I have to
pry them
loose, carefully
like teeth.
Depression is mechanical and it's systematically destroying me.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
I want to rest.
I want to be Earth-
my skin, loose soil,
yellow button dandelions
pushing through
the dirt in my chest,
as puddles fill my outstretched hands
while my hair twists into the roots of trees;
and the wind picks up
to scatters pieces of me
side by side
the dandelion seeds.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
You read between
the horizontal lines
And ended up trapped
inside my sweater.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC