There bloomed a flower
In the middle of a storm
And perished quickly
A young poet near death writes
An ode to the One he loves

In the backseat of your Audi, the three o clock shadow
slants across your face like a threat, makes you look
dangerous. Makes you look
interesting.
So what do you do?
I tell you
I write.
What does that mean?
It means walking into a crowd and getting lost in your head. It means finding loose change in your heart.  Means the world is your dysfunctional, perpetually disappointed, ailing mother. Means this isn't going to last.

But all you see is a silver smile.

There's a girl
Behind the windows
Waiting for the Moon
So she may smell it
As she is blind
🌙

see me,
are you surprised
you little blue boy
screaming with black eyes?

Cheshire cat, Cheshire cat
Your smile lights up these nights
Send down a long golden braid
And pull me up
To the sunshine island
Where two lovers can shine

They roll over in the morning,
Then slither through town like snakes
Tongues flicking to sniff out pools of sun

Then on the couch in the afternoon,
Roll over
And again on the counter--
He cooks the way she always wanted
Her muscles wrapped tight around bone,
Muscles like porcelain,
She is very smooth

She tucks him into bed
(She is very snug)
And kisses him once more, slowly
Before sleeping
Cheshire cat love, a secret
He is no longer keeping

I can't write a poem
I can't say a thing
Without hearing the off judgments
Of the incensed and myopic

I can't be assumed--
I exceed your burning minds and stomachs,
But the irony is
Now I hear their voices
In my head
All day.

If I'm your closest friend
Then you deserve someone else
Someone who won't fall in love
When there's no love to be had
I'm sorry