I will not see your eyes in the lights of Paris
I won't remember your laugh when I'm wandering Dublin
The streets of Amsterdam won't conjure up memories of our Chicago
Summer in Sicily isn't going to remind me of us at the beach,
happy, warm, in love.
But baby don't you think for a minute that I'm going to forget you
You were my first adventure.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Tell me what you want, baby—we're running out of time.
The walls are falling back and I have neither the strength nor will to hold this room together
I'm sorry it wasn't enough, I still breathe for you
But the oxygen is escaping and leaving my lungs useless and our love breathless and if you don't make up your ******* mind my chest will explode and my last words to you will escape.
And I'm not ready to hear them
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
In Mythology we learned of the passion of the pelican
How a mother would open herself and let her children drink her blood
When no other food was available.
I looked at you and I couldn't help but wonder…
Who are you trying to feed?
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Mama's hands were smooth and cool
When she pushed my hair back
and told me not to worry
Because sometimes mommies and daddies fight, But that's okay
My childhood stretched before me
A long dirt road
where daddy's absence hung in the air
like
The sour smell of whiskey
On his breath
When he tucked me in
but that's okay.
at night he always had the same shade of lipstick smeared on his neck
I found it later
in a Walgreens downtown.
Revlon number seven,
"Not Your Mother's Mauve"
How ironic, I thought.
Because Mama never did wear lipstick
I remember nights
when she sat in the living room
Painted blue,
she kept her anguish
where I am not,
and daddy always will be
She kept him there
Suspended in a light
Not of scrutiny
but of love
And I hated him for it
Because my mother's loss would tear her apart
And I was left
behind a closed bedroom door
to grieve for
my
happy
family.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
I went to Paris
and visited the bookstore you always told me about.
I left my secret on the wall of notes
I miss you
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
It's strange to see her
here
on a beautiful night like tonight
in an ugly place like this.
She says it's her favorite place in the whole city
I'd ask her why,
but I already know
how much she loves the glow of the bars across the street
The laughter of drunken twenty something's drifting across Belmont
The way the neon signs hum and warm her face
Illuminating her in a pink glow
and the breath of the city
Steady
as her hand holding her lighter
Too tightly
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
It felt like spinning.
Like when you hold onto someone's hands and spin as fast as you can
It's a mutual trust, for if one person let's go, the other will fall.
It was scary, and thrilling, and constantly spinning.
That's what our love felt like.
Like a machine of perpetual motion,
spinning faster and faster
holding on tighter and tighter
Slipping
more and more.
It left me dizzy and sick
like the Tilt-a-Whirl carnival ride you kissed me on
with your mouth sweet from cotton candy
and your palms sweaty from the July heat;
But this time I did not have your arm there to steady me
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
Mama's hands were smooth and cool
When she pushed my hair back and told me not to worry
Because sometimes mommies and daddies fight, but that's okay.
My childhood stretched before me
A long dirt road where daddy's absence hung in the air like
The sour smell of whiskey
On his breath
When he tucked me in at night
He always had the same shade of lipstick smeared on his neck
I found it later in a Walgreens downtown
Revlon number seven, Not Your Mother's Mauve
How ironic, I thought.
Because Mama never did wear lipstick
I remember nights where she sat in the living room
Painted blue, she kept her anguish in a secret place
Where I am not, and daddy always will be
She kept him there
Suspended in a light
Not of scrutiny but of love
And I hated him for it
Because my mother's loss would tear her apart
And I was left behind a closed bedroom door
The grieve for my happy family.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
When the leaves fell, they fell like bombs.
Crashing to the ground noiselessly
But he could feel the impact of each delicate leaf hitting the soft autumn ground
And when he looked up at the trees, stretching their bare branches towards the sky,
He saw young Vietnamese children, reaching out to their mothers
Who lay lifeless
Slumped against the walls of empty buildings
Once called home.
And when he closed his eyes to sleep at night
He was haunted by comrades
Who had fallen beside him
And left behind widows and children and lives
all in the name of democracy.
They say the wounds of war can never really heal.
I know yours didn't.
We won the war
But you lost yours
Were you contemplating surrender when you held that familiar friend in your hands?
A gun had once defended your life, but now it prepared to take it
Did you think about wives and children and sorrow?
Or were you simply thinking of the dead, autumn leaves falling from the branches?
You, too, died in autumn,
But you fell in spring.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
The windows were down
My feet were on the dashboard
You asked me if Everything was okay
I lied
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC