Burning all of the pages
I've written about you
would be equivalent
to setting a forest on fire.
Except I couldn't do that.
What a waste of paper,
what a waste of trees,
that I planted and grew,
watered them with my tears,
watched them flourish
with the many colors of you
glistening on all of the leaves.
The only thing you've written about me
was my name on the back
of a scratch piece of paper
crumpled up and forgotten
and you didn't even finish the sentence.
Just a little tree sapling.
Well, you can burn that
with a flame torch
for all I care.

you’re like an echo,
a pattern on a rug,
a wild rainstorm without the flood


I drew an X and O on a piece of bark 

with my red lipstick but I didn’t have the guts

to put it in your mailbox



that’s a true story

you met a *****

golden smile and legs

when we last spoke, I told you life was absolutely great

dishonesty gets the best of me
when really I’m alone here

trying to scrimp and save

every moment you and I have made

and I could die

that’s a sad story
and a true story

patterns
echoes
come back to me like a boomerang

I haven’t seen you in clarity
in a very long time

you’re like a horse race track
and I am galloping, number 9

running for dear life,
with blinders on the sides of my eyes


running to run, not
running to win, just
running for running
away

I never found it easy to stay
in one place
in my head, even in my heart
they’re fickle body parts

it’s easy to take one step too far away
it’s not easy to stay
it’s easy to regret anything
and I do all of these things over and over again

I’ll probably always thirst for distance
but if you need to,
you can find me in my garden, where I plant
a lot of thought
I’ll always hope that someday,
you’ll recognize your loss and look me in the eyes again

I’m like a hayseed
having a hard time surrendering to the wind
and I could die

still, maybe I am barefoot at your door
while the neighbourhood is asleep
drawing X’s and O’s on tree bark or two stick figures kissing
with sidewalk chalk

I dreamt you were with someone else
you drank lemonade and held hands,
a perfect summer romance

it made me want to die
it made me want to write you a letter and then burn it
but I decided to repress it all instead

I’m sorry for leaving
and then coming back
and then leaving again

and though I only saw you last week,
I haven’t seen you in clarity in a long time

it makes me lonely and when I feel lonely,
I speak to the sky
whispering secrets, you see,
it’s the only thing I can always speak to without lying

the truth is a fierce thing,
like wind can be,
it can be merciless
and I am just a hayseed
having a hard time surrendering to the wind

oh, the truth
it echoes, even in a field

or perhaps
just in my head

you can’t run away from the truth after you tell it to the sky
because the sky is everywhere,
always watching

always listening

always there

and that kind of makes me want to die

So long summer river
bright snowflakes have fallen
leaving you silent where darkness deepens
grey winds rush
and cannot move you along
so dream of Spring's flowering songs
in cold nights of crystalline
when quiet winter snow
falls still upon
the meadow

I am freefloating now in the warmth of the waves that will take me somewhere and somehow,
I know this is right.
This is the desert where night rules,where only fools go,there is no map to guide me as I float along gently
being pushed,being pulled.
being lulled by the motion of this,the great ocean and somehow,
I know that one day
I will find the way.

The day knows that as the sun rises and glows,
all deserts will come to an end,
and the night that would send us to sleep reaps no more of the dream where in silent abandon I scream out your name.
She came and she went,spent a little time on the good things,but death brings no joy to the boy who is left on the shore,
raw and unpolished an essay unfinished,a book hardly started,broken hearted.

I am freefloating now in the warmth of the wave and no one can save me,
I am a slave to the will that would will me to go
but I know that one day
I will find the way
back.

where are the people
who can’t wake up in the morning
no matter how much sleep they get
and where are the people
that find such comfort in a cup of coffee
who turn to the black liquid sweetened and warm
where are the people
who spend hours alone, just the way they like it
but when someone reaches out,
such appreciation you won’t find in anyone else
and where are the people
who let words fall from their mouths like stones
and words from their pens like precious gems
where are the people
that find heroes in ordinary people
because miracles sound nice but are so unlikely
that the ordinary is just enough, thanks
and where are the people
that remembered to buy bread and cereal
and they let that fill them with such pride
maybe they’ll even get the laundry done too
or maybe that should wait til tomorrow
where are the people
who spend nights turning over in bed
or staring at computer screens
or  flipping pages of books
hoping that tonight, tonight they will go to sleep with good thoughts
and where are the people
who got told growing up that there was so many things they had to be
that now that it’s their turn to become
they are torn between expectation and desire and sheer ability
where are the people
who have already learned that there’s no such thing as an adult
who have realized we’re all making our way in a messed up world
with polite smiles and appropriate clothing
and we are all pretending like we have it together

where are the people
like me
because i think a little connection between us
would make us stop asking
“are there others like me?”

When I was younger,
as our lips met
I was so eager
to free you
          from your fabric bonds
I was in such a hurry
to liberate you
         from the oppressive clothing
that was strangling your body
                inhibiting your beauty
                hiding the soft curves of your skin
I treated our time together
like a small child would treat a Christmas gift,
Greedily tearing away at the wrapping paper
to retrieve the object of his desire.

Unaware that anticipation can be just as rewarding
as the reward itself

My priorities have shifted
          I've learned

Let me just lay next to you
admire you as you bite your lip
   enticing a kiss.

    Just a small one

Let me run my hand down your arm
as my fingers find yours and
   i n t e r t w i n e

Let me watch as your eyes follow mine
into the place where no words
need be spoken

I want to listen to your heartbeat
                   There's no need to rush this.

I want to get lost with you in this moment

                 Just for a bit

Before we're lost in the passion of the night

First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13