Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

I'm jealous of the rain
It gets close to you
Closer than I ever will
It touches your skin
It combs your hair
It comes when you're sad
It stays when you're happy
I love you but you don't love me
So I say
I'm jealous of the rain

i knew she had been crying
her face red, and her eyes were glazed
small chuckles followed by a crack in her voice
straight looks out the window,
unsure what to ask her
i kept the radio for noise
took her some drinks
a shot from the bottle drowned the silent cries
alcohol was the disguise
and yet she kept quiet about her tears
and i acted like i didn't hear
driving her home
i wished her goodnight
to wake up the next morning in fright

she was gone...

if only i could discover what demons she was facing
if only i could be the one who ended up saving her
but alas, i wasn't


she's gone now and i keep thinking about our night in the truck

She’ll steal the heart you thought had died
And breathe her life into your soul.
A soul that you had never found,
But not without you having tried.

She’ll trace her fingers on your skin
And wear away into your pores
Until within your blood she is,
To overdose adrenaline.

She sinks her teeth, expands her eye.
Encapsulating childish grin
Of innocence and sin intense.
She captures all that pass her by.

she won't stop crying
she says you did her wrong

she saw right through your lies
but she still chose to play along

now she is bruised
she sings an irregular song

now she is empty
because, with all her love, you have gone.