I told my friend that
you're the past

Because you're everything
aging and terrible and ashy
about years gone by

I've got a million other names for
you like cowardly, disloyal,
traitorous

But speaking to you would be a
manner of giving in, going after your
lure, and I knew you as a man of strength
and honesty

And you were, once upon a time,
So what happened?

Soft dreams my sweet dreamer
Dream of lifetimes that last
May our purest love guide you
From heartbreaks long past

May sweet music sooth you
In loves gentle sleep
For when you awaken
These dreams will repeat.

Miguel you have brushed winter.
Leaving me no fire wood,
having hidden the matches
to light the dinning room.
The velvet cushions  we used to idle  time away,
hidden in the attic
with dusty regret unrequited.
The emptiness filled by spider's webs
a scoundrel in the making

You can find me under a bridge, with a needle in my arm,
or at the bars where old men slide their hand up my thigh and I am pretending not to like it.
I like to play games like "which one of my boyfriend's brothers can I turn on the most" or "how many girls can I kiss in one night"
Usually the answers are -- all of them and the most I've gotten is 6