I'm scared you're going to slip away
Like water through the cracks of my façade
As I cling to you desperately, irrelevently.
I need you to live,
But as we slowly forget that each other matter,
Too preoccupied with what's in our lives and minds,
Maybe it will be too late.
All the water will be gone.
And I will look back and regret,
Thirsty for something I had.

Kelly came over to steal my boyfriend yesterday. It was a Monday.
She wore baby pink lipstick and her favorite new labret piercing
That meet-me-outside thunder-rolling-in hooded gaze
And a judgement call towards me that I could never meet. Well, maybe on a Wednesday. But in that I was out of luck.
It was dangerous to watch her pull up on her Viper, trail her polished fingertips along his truck. I saw her hike her skirt and shake her choppy mangled hair out from where it matted under her helmet.
I thought, at least, he'd noticed when I'd taken the brush out of my pack that morning and groomed as he bustled around the house. No?
He always did like his women wild. I'm not jealous, I'm envious.
She crept in the door and removed her shoes where I'd just ***** inside, and with her barefeet padded into the livingroom.
Now you can tell I was on my guard, but I wasn't in the mood to pounce.
You have to be, to do what she did. You have to make that decision early. Bite a lemon, shave your legs, set the intention in your mind. That someone's heart is going to get broken, some guy is going to get stolen. And this time it was mine.
So I just sat on the couch bewildered as she broke him into a smile, on a subject only people in town would understand. Do I look like I'm from town, or know hell about it? It ached so to be prodded in that scab.
She left after dropping off some bottles and a snide comment at my expense.
She didn't come back today, but neither did he. And I know.
I let him get away. Or if he's stray then he deserved to get got,
I still love him, however,
Now I love Jack, Jim, and Jerry, a heckuva lot!

Water bubbles up and over into a steady pool, in an island in a taxi circle. Where strelitzia dip low over a stone bench and the palm trees shade the southern sun. The fountain runs languidly into its blue tiled basin, clear. Inviting. It only runs in moments when I think of you so dearly that my tears over flow without a sound, welling up and onto the tenderness of my eyelids. I have no thought but that of our dear Mexico. And no better a place to store my sorrow, for I cannot cry a river nor an ocean; but a steadily working spout.
Hidden by taxis. And strelitzia.
Where you will never see.

I wonder if I'm as lost as they say, if everyone is on the edge of discovering it. The footsteps in the snow are mine alone, you know. As we hike the mountain ***** together. You've put on his face, his jacket. You've warmed your hands to his temperature when you hold mine inside your pocket. And lift your head at just the angle he would, when I point out the breaking clouds. The sun is just on the edge of coming out, turning this icy tread into a blinding canvas above and below us. Just on the verge of turning you into a shadow and reminding me. Ever present, ever longing for you, that you are not here.
That there's somebody else wearing your face. And holding my hand. And wearing your jacket.
There's only one set of footprints here and behind
And where you were there's only me.