a  flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get

if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know in my possess

lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing his rest,
a paper record to join his ash,
his flawless poem,
at long last

A secret or two, they’re not easy to see,
a secret or two of the real me.
In my defense I’m not to blame
for these secrets of lust and secrets of shame.
Proceed with caution, don’t be misled;
the girl you currently see before your eyes is dead.
Though smiling and polite,
no one would guess what happens at night.
Dr. Jeckell, call me Mrs. Hyde;
why don’t you step right inside
to my one woman show;
these demons bring my body to an all time low.

When I was sketching this afternoon,
my strokes seemed unsure
and my lines were all wrong and
I realized some things about you.

The reason your fingers
always seem to be slipping
every time you try to catch a
handful of waterfall
is because once upon a time
the rocks that your soles were planted on
crumbled.

You used to be a deer,
the way you stood on new heights
and how you looked on
with a steady eye, so
when was it that you decided
one more step was too much for you to climb?

The burying must stop.
It has been proven time and time again
that no matter
how deep a grave is dug,
the flowers will give the bones away.

I don't understand why you
confuse seawater with fresh, because
I know that you've already stuck out your tongue
and tasted the sweetness of real freshwater
or have you?

You are dust
walking in deep shadows
where I cannot find you.
I have only a candle
and my words, but I will wait.
After all, in the beginning,
something beautiful was made from dust
and from a word
sprung a world.

And lastly I realized that
I hope that you someday read this poem
and we will sit together in the afternoon sun
and you will listen to the sound of new things
as I sketch with sure strokes
and just the right lines.

It was a long fought battle
and I accept I lost
but the hardest thing to fathom
is the part of me it cost
I would have gave it gladly
a casualty of war
but now I see its sadly
just not worth fighting for
I flew this flag for love
but now its a white banner
my resolve left snubbed
because its not what I'm after.

Drunk on gin and conversation, I slept with someone else last night
But in his bed I had to fight your name from my lips,
To remember that I was here, with him and not there, with you
And he was not you
He smelled like cologne instead of coffee and smoke, but he was kind
And he was not you
In the morning he wrapped me in his arms and called me beautiful
And he was not you
In my mind I felt you next to me and while he slept, I remembered
All those times I laid my palm on your chest and felt your voice rise up through my fingertips
So that the things you said to me wrote themselves into my flesh, leaving me with no chance to forget all these pieces you’ve left behind
Take them back, please
You haunt my body like a ghost
I taste you in my sleep
Every inch of me remembers you, my thighs still think that they are tender
With the bruises from your hips
My heart still thinks that it is broken
You’ve become a whole list of songs I can no longer listen to, the early morning sadness I sleep late to avoid
You’ve become a name in my phone I will never call, a conversation in my head we will never have
You’re just a cold place in my bed
Just the thing that he was not
You are gone
And someday I will forget you, too

behind closed doors
i sit in nothing
but a pair of headphones
inhale magic smoke from my crystal
let her caress my lungs for
seven seconds before i
exhale her out the window
a shadow of what she once was
giving her life for my happiness
inevitably iridescent
i tiptoe to my bed and submerse myself beneath covers
letting the bass control the rhythm of my heart
because for once somethings giving it a start
i couldn't care any less if it killed me
i'm makeupless
void of vision
or senses in every sense of the word
i'm breathless and sleepless
i crave sweet release
but can't even form a thesis