I'd rather think of you with my eyes closed.
The images play back in my late night cinema of a mind.
Your colors fade but the feeling remains the same.
A sold out show every night, but just one patron.

Me.

•
       you
               secretly
                       wishing, for
                              your writes to be
                                noticed•simple sign
                             that they have not been
                          missed•with every view
                     and every like•your popu-
               larity does spike•somewhat
          places your art on the poetry
      map•between major players,     
  you close the gap•constantly      
checking to see  who's been              
reading•you're always deli-               
ghted to see the 'yellow                      
lightning'•a wish...                            
    for those who                             
     are writ-                    
ing      
•
secretly hope not only for your words to be
reaching far and wide, but also... trending•

reeking of cigarettes
another shameful night.
"I don't even smoke"
I tell myself.
"everything's fine"
I tell myself.
yes I do,
and no it's not.

energy running low,
I shake off the rust
and pick bullet fragments
from my words.
these wounded lips
have said so much.
this wounded heart
now an empty coffin -
hollow