I call him a monster
when I write about him.
Because I can't imagine
a person would do what he did.
Make him a story, a monster,
Not a human, he can't be.
He couldn't understand the word no,
Nor the pleading and the tears.
He cannot be a person,
with a family, friends,
who listens to old rock music
and eats take out Chinese food on Saturdays.
He can't be a person,
I don't understand.

this is the moon's
quiet rose, the unfolding
of the clouds, tranquility
resting her head,
the beautiful sea.

If I wrote it in blood,
would it mean more?

It's been 5 minutes, yet feels like 5 hours.
It's been 5 hours, yet feels like 5 days.
5 days will turn weeks, and i will turn weak.
Counting each second
Til you're back with me.

And with the first showers
Comes the kind of sadness
Which only half loved lovers
Can feel.