Bright moon above me
Ocean waves wash tears away
Warm breeze blankets me

I found him late;
beautiful voice,
handsome face,
every sound I ever wanted
already sung.

He seemed kind.
Alive.

Then I read the ending.
So young.
So long ago.

And I just sat there,
stupid,
like it still mattered.

Dear Rosemary,
Your scent is so lovely;
Piney and fresh
I want to mesh
Your menth with mine,
You taste really divine 
With lamb, red wine and more
You linger in my garden galore.

A friend once told me
  “Don’t lean on people, they always move and you’ll fall.”
    But what if?

What if I leaned with a knife in my ribs
  Just to keep it straight?
What if their shoulder was made of plastic,
  And I liked the noise it impregnated me with?
What if falling was softer than standing still,
  And comfort was found in bruises?
What if all I ever wanted
  Was someone to move?
  But toward me, not away?

I waited
Seconds
Minutes
Hours
Days
Weeks
Months
Years
Nothing changed
Nothing healed

Light my past on fire
Throw it all in the pit
Like the one in my stomach
It’s pleading to be lit

You could pawn it off
But that won’t make it go away
You could throw it out
But it’ll be there the next day
To pull it out again

Dust it off
Wipe away the gunk
Put it back on the shelf
Stare at the piles of junk
Burn it all for good

First comes excitement
then, insidiously
disillusion settles in