your voice was some kind of faint afterthought
drifting around in the ether.
i reached with fingertips stretched
only barely to graze
what had left as swiftly as it came

in that moment,
in that perfectly fleeting instant,
i felt whole and brave.
but the whole turned to half
and the brave didn’t catch.

sure, it’s a thorn in my side
(more like a mark on my hide),
but my lungs will still fill
with every drop of air
they could ever care to hold
and breathe, i shall.

you see,
my mistakes have led me down a path
and my life has given me a past
and i've known forevers that don't last
and i've mixed my treasures with my trash

for, you see,
some things don't happen (though i wish they would)
but it's all the bad that makes us good

each beam broke through the blanket of clouds
streaming past the mountain's edge on it all

to come crashing to ground
to emblazon its promise
to each tree extending its arms

because they've prayed for years
to stop being thirsty and scared
of what they don't know
and can't see

so when the light set it off and cried
"never fear, we still want you
to live! and to die! and to breathe!"
they all danced in the wind
and went to great lengths to send
all their expressions of joy
and release.

and that's the story i told you
when you wondered how
it was i came to see you again

the light never left us
no, there were just clouds
refusing to break or to bend

Heavy sleep. Alarm clock blaring. The bus I missed. The way you
looked at me when I sat down. How you liked the shirt I was wearing.
My awkward compliment on your outfit. Your number in my phone.
Paying for the first date with you. For the third. The incredible ***.
Paying for the twentieth date. Months passing. Two Anniversaries and
one ring. The apartment we bought. The bed we shared. The things we
said. The moments we had together. Overwhelmed by my feelings for
you. Wrestling in the kitchen. Quiet nights at home. Pet names. A
sense of comfort. The time that went by. The stress from your job. My
overtime at work. Not tonight dear, I have a headache. Arguing over
directions. Nothing to worry about, just a rough patch. Silence at
dinner. The big fight. The divorce papers. Your confession that you
never loved me. The hole where my heart used to be. All the alcohol I
drank. All the women I ******. Convincing myself that I’m past you.
Time at the gym. Wave to the cute girl at the bar. Get a haircut. Start a
diet. Smile at strangers. Buy a new car. Just fine, never better. See you
with him at the grocery store. My silent indignation. His hand with
yours. The tears on the way home. Grinding my teeth. I'm too good for
you anyway. The beer I consumed. The tree I drove into. The meetings
I went to. The way I hated myself. The way I hated you. The way I still
loved you. The way I knew I always would. The way I hated realizing
that. The depression. The *******. Still sleeping on the right side
of the bed. The volunteer hours I completed. The charity worker I met.
The mediocre ***. The way she said she understood me. My guard
coming down. Forgetting the way you looked. Deleting the messages I
saved. Sighing. My second marriage. The kids she had with me. The
years that melted together. Hearing you moved a while back from an
old neighbor. Long walks by myself. Everyday seeming the same.
Never feeling right. All the years I woke up

cold,

alone,

still wishing you were next to me.

all these hollywood actors
with their photoshopped smiles
holding hands for money
on the cover of a movie
and sharing that look
like they've done it for years
'cause they have

well, they have and they haven't
and they're back and they're forth
while the magazines listen
and spew it back
from the racks
in the grocery store checkout


and to think, all i wanted was my skittles.


but i got thoughts down the stream
from the glint of the gloss
of the reality they practice
and fine tuned as an art
so i get to thinking
maybe it doesn't matter if you're happy,
just that the world thinks you are

i can't look away though,
i just see a blushing trainwreck
happy on her wedding day,
a future diet pill representative
or fresh out of rehab
because that's the way my mind works,
still talking like someone's listening
when it knows my ears don't work that well,
they just don't.

and i'm not angry
and i'm not even scared
i'm just tired of the life between
the things that we live for



so when the lady at the register smiles
and asks if i'll be paying cash or credit
i feel bad that i have to tell her
i'm sorry, i just don't think i'm that hungry anymore