I want to trace your scars
with my fingertips,
hear every painful story
& learn how you healed.

I want to kiss every blemish
on your pretty skin,
listen to your wishes
& press myself closer.

I want to feel your heartbeat
against my chest,
taste your lips,
inhale your sweet fragrance,
& hold you like no tomorrow
which may never come.

I want to live with you
in the moment,
the here,
the now,
& make
a lasting impression
on you
with my whispers.

The purple tracks
running up her arms
were a tell tale sign,
a roadmap of hell
to the death
she was travelling to
& no matter what I said,
her hollow
black-eyes spoke volumes
about the journey
she hated,
but could not stop.

She moved me beyond words,
took me on wild rides
that made
the carnival look lame.

Her frame fit me like a glove,
I was held spellbound
in her arms,
feasted on her body,
was titillated by her mind,
I was truly in love with her.

Sadly. I never realized
how much I missed smoking,
two packs a day she did,
it was in her hair
& in her clothes
& only the Lord knows
how much I miss her badly.

She drinks wine in the morning,
whiskey in the early afternoon
& passes out with brandy.
Some say she's got demons.
But you would too
if your father
bought you
just a lottery ticket
for Christmas,
while giving away the farm
to his new kids,
born to him &
his new wife.

I traced your lips
on my favorite photo,
felt the energy
of your gorgeous smile,
it ran right through me,
took me away
to that sweet memory.

O darling,
do you ever,
do you ever
look at my own picture
& touch my mouth
with your fingers,
'cause
I can taste them
still?

Pour me another round friend,
set me up a other shot,
I want to celebrate,
hide,
get away,
escape from all this pain.

Oh & please
refrain from any judgment,
it's my money.
If I want to squander it
for even more misery,
that's my choice,
not yours.

And, besides,
why fight my request,
it's what you get paid to do,
I promise I'll leave
you a big tip mate,
pay you good money
for killing me
a little bit more
tonight.

Cheers!

She said she wanted to hang
on our first date,
so we stayed
over at her place.
There, she hung out
on the edge of the couch,
wore a sweatshirt
covered with pink hearts,
kept using the word "insane"
& puckering her lips.
Twirling her hair between her fingers,
I quipped about her lava lamp,
how outdated it looked.
You should have seen her face.
Everything immediately went silent,
it got eerily quiet
& she said she was sick,
that I had to go.
And I did, quick.