romance?
all I've known
for a while now
is a foreign touch
unfamiliar,
a caress of the neck
leads to nothing more
than a question:
'can you lock the door?'
for reasons I'm unsure,
this could be my fate
if I no longer
wish to wait
for the real thing,
to hold someone again

“I’m sorry.” The words were mumbled under minty breath, barely a plea in their delivery.

Eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding contact with his. He stood his ground while her left foot pushed out and tapped the toe of his shoe gently.

For a moment she appeared to be a puppy with her tail between her legs, getting a scolding for ******* on the living room rug again. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders, limp, like sad dog ears sagging against her head.

Allowing her voice to sink in, he tilted her chin up with one hand, forcing their gaze to meet.

One moment was all that was needed to know she didn’t mean it.  She would do it again.

The choice was his.
Torture himself, or abandon ship.

October arrived with the force of a hurricane.
I am left with nothing but a cold bed
and the crunch of the first fallen leaf.
No one to give warmth but I,
as 2015 eagerly waits
at the alter
to be given away.

throw thoughts aside
and take a hit
meaning disguised
as soulless ***
frictionless fire
skin to skin
if it's what I think
I must stop my sins.

Can't establish the texture of his hair in words.
Detached from envisioning the exact shade of blue
in his eyes.
Unable to recollect the precise placement of the freckles
on his shoulders.
At one point I could sense each individual thing
as if it was my own.
What does it mean?

There has been enough distance between
that these things
can fade away
without a
trace