They tell me about craft beers and climbing
the world to sip on adventure - to understand
and praise what we sip and why we sip.
Wisps of hair and crinkled eyes, I begin to
blush inside. The glint of forever gleams off
your finger and I want to bury my ideas
with you - if only we met sooner, another time,
a different world, good luck.

You sit there, swimming in man made pools
of bourbon - clutching her hand - and I pray;
bite my lip and grip my heart that you don't
drown my sunflower. That you survive and
she grows...remembers to grow...that I don't
****.

She storms in, screaming songs of thunder
and lighting the room with rage. Powerful,
I think to myself, as you slander the cursed
perceptions of your own insecurities. The
dull lamp sinks me further into the couch,
harboring lonesome anxiety. Sometimes I am scared
to speak
and say what you are avoiding hearing.
No more.

You're running towards me, my name echoing
from your lips past the stretch of concrete
between us - kissing warmth into my mind.
I want to explode into stars with you and
never part again, fix all the cracks I made.
My arms cradle your soul, for one last time,
and the disappointment of my distance slices
our cracked hands: I'm sorry I wasn't there.

He interrupts our conversation from a
foot away, through someone else. I smile,
coward. You still fear what I was to you,
even in the onset of something new. I
wonder if meeting your eyes will change
this strange silence. But I close them instead
and hum my own dance until I remember
your lurking body. Silent, silent silent, as
I scream at myself.  

Everything died, but your mornings have
just started. You all know nothing of the
bottomless gin and shards of glass I
ripped my eyes out with. Wandering down
to the steaming coffee and banter on daily
dissatisfaction - I become lava. No...dripping
blood. Slowly, so thick it travels centimeter by
millimeter tainting the surface below. Surprising
its peers, fearful for some. And you ask, hey are
ok?