and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

Here's a hint:
Don't fall into love.  
Whatever love it may be.
For you'll pause one day
You'll think to yourself
Why must this happen to me?

"I don't want/miss/still love my ex
I'm a hundred percent sure of that.
It's the relationship I miss."

"Not the person?"

"Yeah. Not the person.
I miss the relationship part,
if that makes any sense.

It's the being there for each other,
the stories at the end of the day,
the comfort of their kisses,
the softness of their touch,
the sweetness in their voice
when they need your help
getting a can of vegetables
that's high up in the pantry."

"Not the person, right?"

"Right.
Or, perhaps I do miss the person
and the memories,
and I'm just lying to myself
to make it hurt less."

Is God around us
Is he external
Can he feel for me when he is outside of me?
That answers it.
No He is not around us?
No He is not an outsider
He is within us.
Deep inside us
One with us.

Because when we close our eyes
And shut out the world
When we shut out the din
And hear that inner voice
It is HIM
It is home coming.