yearning for orange-red and wind
she likes to go on long walks
down the streets of her home town
she feels most at home in these empty streets
walking alone
with nothing to hear but the wind in her hair
and her own thoughts.

maybe she liked being alone at first
and maybe she's gotten used to it
to where she's found an odd sort of
comfort in her own company,
"don't come close," she said.
"i won't let you hurt me again."

when i was a child i had a siamese cat
we found him, alone, abandoned
outside of our home
we took him with us when we left

he never liked to be inside too much
but he loved me with all of his soul
refusing to leave me be and
resting on my lap until my legs were numb

he was aggressive and mean to his own kind
never letting other cats wander upon
his territory, but he expressed a tolerance
for the young kittens next door

one day he began searching the house
climbing into the bathtubs, across furniture
on the counters, meowing incessantly
until he decided to go outside

we opened the door for him and he happily
trotted away, and in the morning we
discovered he found what he was searching for
he was searching for a place to die.

i used to always have bruises on my knees from the cold tile of the bathroom floor. the texture and the goosebumps is what i really miss, although i think that's the strangest thing about it.

why would i remember that part so vividly?
and why did i bruise so easily?

it means so little but it says so much
that the details are what i focus on the most
the feel of running my fingers over the porcelain
and how it was always so cold to the touch

i never remember why
but i remember the encouragement
the desperation
the tears in the mirror
the tearing at my skin
and the small woman with an accent
over the deli counter
who motivated me to get better

i haven't been able to find something to wash out the bitter taste you've left in my mouth.

except maybe *****, but that only works for the night, and it's unreliable.
drinking because i'm sad usually just leaves me sad and drunk,
and that's not a good place to be either.

but the ability to forget what you've done to me is worth the risk, so i'll drink alone. i'll drink with friends. whatever i can get my hands on, really. and maybe i'll think about you, and maybe i won't. but it doesn't matter, because maybe i'll fall asleep.

and maybe i won't have bad dreams.

God forgives all trespasses,
but can I?
What do I have to forgive?

I'll not forgive you because you have nothing to apologize for.
You've been absent, but you have your reasons. You have your struggle and I have my love.
For you, for her, for my little sister, for everything around me.
I'll be there for you always, I'll spare my bitterness that has so often been flowing out of my pores. You don't deserve it and it won't help.
Help?
If you need some, just ask,
I'll not pass judgment for I wish none to be passed unto me, God knows one could judge me, least of all you, for the way I've treated you.

I'll be there for you,
although it's hard for me to look you in the eye.

For he's a jolly good fellow,

adorned in yellow and love,
it was hard to see his face through the smoke of a three blunt rotation, but I could feel his heart beating from across the trailer.

Worn out eighties music was the unofficial theme of the night and I think we lived up to the expectations Eddie Murphy set for his.

i suppose there is a lot of unsung symbolism in giving someone a plant, as plants have become an average gift to give in occasions of celebration, such as moving into a new home or graduating from school.

every moment i am with you is a cause for celebration.
you are a celebration.

no matter how many plants i can give you to put on the windowsill in your bedroom will symbolize the celebration i feel in knowing you to it's true color.

because i feel fireworks in my chest brighter and louder than the ones we kissed under and i feel happier and bubblier with you than drinking the alcohol i like to drink too much of and you give me more pleasant thoughts than the color i chose to paint the walls of my bedroom

and no matter how many poems i write
and no matter how many words i say
none of them quite amount to the sheer immensity of what i feel for you

I'm not scared to fall in love
I'm terrified to try
and realize that I don't want you

The thing I loved about our relationship
is that I could say
*******
and you would kiss me

The hardest part about
the end of a relationship
is knowing that
you don't love
the person you desperately wanted to