I can’t remember what room I was in
15 years old
involuntary 24 hour hold
in the elmwood village
now I look over my yard
past the liquor store
to the the abandoned glass faces
of your darkened rooms
wonder what I would tell her
wonder what she would see, looking out
I don’t remember the view
don’t remember the way these white lines
must’ve looked fresh
red, raw, and new
but I imagine
her looking out at me
while I smoke a cigarette
while onyx tosses a stick
while walking hodge in twilight hours
while I write these words
what is it I would tell her
what could ten years offer her
to console
to comfort
all I see are black abandoned faces
in groups of three
empty rooms
ghosts of girls long dead
or recovered.
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 4:45 AM UTC
I used to say your name like a prayer
over and over in my head
sitting curbside next to a sewer drain
dropping cigarette butts into the abyss as an offering.
it’s a type of madness that I revisit
from time to time.
different names, different prayers.
cigarette butts and sewer drains.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 9:42 PM UTC
today I went and bought a 6 pack
we had a blizzard rolling in so I
drove off and decided,
"my first legal buy", and some noodles.
and I looked at just about every 6 pack
the packaging, the price, the abv.
you were such a beer snob
and yet I loved you for it.
maybe I would've found any excuse to love you.
maybe that's what love really is.
I don't remember much of that month,
anymore.
but on your wall I can see
all of the things I bought and drank
when I felt loved and so much better off.
and for whatever reason,
the black sheep lager, I remember.
I wasn't with you, but I was proud of you
for it,
for picking it out.
maybe I would've found any excuse to like it.
maybe that's what love really is.
but anyways,
I kept thinking, which is never good,
that the beer was awesome
that black sheep was the height of summer
that black sheep brought me close to you.
each and every time I saw it on your wall
I thought
this isn't over
it happened
it's real.
well it was,
and it wasn't.
maybe that's what love really is.
but the beer
the black sheep
it doesn't taste at all
like I remembered it did.
like all your favorite beers, it is bitter.
like all unrequited, half-forgotten loves,
it is bitter.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
having every other time
earned my automatic forgiveness;
I cannot find a way to make you feel
the anger that burns me up from within
like a boiling fountain deep inside my guts
that spills scalding tears I cannot stop.
and I will not wait
for you to need me;
just so I can let you down
to see if you will hurt
the way I have.
no, I will not wait.
I will never wait for you again.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 3:12 AM UTC
past three a.m. you don't exist
except for this time when you
thought you could walk in and
exist here.
listen, these amphetamines
make me far too honest.
you can't be here
while I'm jawing out
because
I'd love to talk to you.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
the summer days when
my bracelets graced your coffee table
were by far the best
that I ever had.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
I have already told you;
there are sleepless mornings
when I can taste
every poison lacing my cigarette
and I wouldn't mind except
for the way that they sift past
a throat already rubbed sore
from all of the screams kept silent inside.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
at the point of every morning
where I'm too tired to think of anything else
you swim into the part of my heart
that doesn't want you to be there anymore.
I have cried during too many sunrises,
to justify ever crying for you again,
so I must regretfully quit this business,
and try my luck somewhere else.
when I think, or thought, of us together
I think of june the way I thought of june in july
it was and always will be something that
brought me a happiness I didn't deserve.
I can almost understand the way how
we will slowly drift apart forever and always
'like empires and old loves'
but rome wasn't rebuilt in a day.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC