i do not hate you
for in hating you
i will keep you
and love you
i cannot
for your love
is my ruin

i need to let go
to separate you
from me
for i need to live

the blue is a prim,

and pretty room, draped

with musical games

of chance,

for settling here.



harp strings

relay the vital net,

after shakespeare.



the visitors leave.



lord byron wrote

of hours of idleness;

the letters below,

and all the while

you have no love for me,

worrying over the empty barn.



sbm.

I'll write everyday
Even if I write about nothing

I'll write everyday
Even if it isn't the least bit good

I'll write everyday
Because silence is compliance

I'll write everyday
Because they haven't broken me yet

I'll write everyday
Even if no one reads it

I'll write everyday
Even if it makes you mad

I'll write everyday
Because I need to let you know

I'll write everyday
Because my conscious tells me so

You tied  shoelaces together
and tried to hang yourself
from McMillin’s
basketball
hoop.

The neighbors talked about
it for years over flapjacks
and grits.  

They couldn’t understand why
anyone would attempt
suicide. I knew
the reason;

you were homely
and dull, kind of
foul smelling

too.  You failed
at  death, me
at life.

I bought a mirror from a strange boy,
his smile was truly honest, so I didn't hesitate,
but when I looked into that mirror,
I didn't see what I  was expecting.

No matter what angle I tried,
my face was nowhere to be seen,
the only thing staring back at me,
was the boy who sold me this peculiar piece.

I went home, all full of wonders,
and hung the mirror on the wall,
and with every day I grew more fond of,
the beautiful face looking out for me.

*And just slowly I realised I was falling in love.