the feel of sun on your face
the sweet smell of autumn

the music of the heart
the breeze off the ocean

love of your family
the joy of solitude

the way your man places his hand in the small of your back
how he looks at you from across the room

a surprise phone call from a long lost friend
a night out with the girls

the first time your child says mamma
your grand babies giggles

a big win at the office
small step forward

whatever it is that moves you
cherish it.

the problem with skeletons
is that you can never be completely sure
who they once were
with simply a glance
but I've got this feeling
that if I held all their hands
every skeleton in my closet
would resemble one man
and I've got this feeling
this unshakeable thought
that it's not who he was,
its who he was not.

kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds

are you afraid of parking garages
do you think of empty parking spaces
with empty cars beside them
like your own compartmentalized mind
do the empty spaces scare you
like my own scare me
are you afraid of the dust
are you afraid of the ghosts
sitting where people once were
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of the lonely silence
are you afraid of the concrete walls
that are more solid than anything
that you have ever created
are you afraid 
that you'll be just as cold
just as lifeless
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of where they take you
are you afraid of the airports 
that you always end up in
missing those that never come back
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid that you'll park 
and that you'll never leave
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of the flickering lights
and your own shadow 
bouncing in front you
are you afraid of going somewhere 
and never coming home
are you afraid of your home
and when they asked you where home is
did you stutter 
because you almost said someone's name
instead of a place
or is your home that parking garage
blank and grey 
empty and hollow
are you afraid of parking garages

[holyoak]