Stumbling into a room
Innebriated, flushed
Sweat collects heavily
Over your brow
A shaky forefinger
Thrown into faces
Of strangers in the hall
And then back at me
Swears used as adjectives
You tell the tales
Of the disappointment
You can't help but feel
When you look at me
I find myself apologizing
For carrying your genes
For knowing you
For being born with your name
I find myself apologizing
And though I don't say it
I'm really apologizing
For not being as valuable
To you as whiskey.

It's not as if
It was the end of the world
Or like I didnt pull through
And survive that moment
It's just that
My entire world changed
And the parts of me that I loved
Didn't make it out alive

Some times
I think about how
The word
Alphabet
Means Alpha
And Beta
And how that
Implies a
....
Like the
Alphabet
Doesn't really
Ever end
So now the
Letter Z
Raises questions
In my brain
And I wonder
What comes
After it
That is why
I cannot
Sleep.

You spoke to me in a dream,
voice like honey,
"The angels won't save someone with so much devil in them."

Nights of bumming cigarettes
off men too old, who should know better.
Welcoming the darkest of us with a thin smile,
all opalescent.

Lost yourself in poker chips,
another wager on the poker table.
Some middle aged man's fantasy-
legs spread like Russian roulette,
who would go with you?
Appealing the sin inside of your bones,
you locked your demons in a box.

It's not your fault,
you were murdered.
you were chosen-
this world tends to expire on
a girl with an imbalance of hedonism & an angelic temperament.

Beauty can lead us to truly dangerous places;
those veins belong to you,
but BOB wants to bury himself underneath your skin.

Seashells mixed with bits of sand
clung to your ocean blue skin,
your lips looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry I wasn't myself"
- the town's patron saint

Early morning,
clouds shine down
on your still frame,
like a movie scene-
it's cold,
but you've always been a fan of snow
snowflakes touch your nose
in a light dust of blow.

Did you ever really live?
Or had you already been a ghost?
Of who they all had come to love and adore.

We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer