Don't fall for me
Because you will I promise
And when you do you will love it
You will love me because I am everything you need.
But when I run dry
And I'm of limited supply
You'll wish you never met me
Because loving me is the worst, most painful way to die.

"No one understands me."

         it slipped out in
         a timid whisper
          
                             as she combed her beard.

Someone carved a face in that pumpkin,
and now it's perched on a stoop, grinning
with the same sinister grin the carver must have had
when he carved it.

And everything I recognize as expressive
(the triangular eyes, that big toothy smile)
is marked by a lack of pumpkin.
A red face of dead space.

And now I'm seeing just the opposite.
I see two spots where the eyes should be,
an open wound where the mouth once sat,
and a fire within, baking the insides.

i don't want you to hold me
and if they get me, don't bother
bite your tongue, don't make a sound
i'm running from the arms of another

Do you remember when we stayed up all night while you read your poems to me?
The day we watched movies, didn't get out of bed & cried our eyes out because the stories were so moving?
It mattered not that we were broke or that there was a recession, we laughed and cried made our own fun and enjoyed all of our our obsessions.
I miss that man that first came to stay with me.
I no longer know who you are and why you decided to leave.
I try not to miss you while hoping that you miss me.

Maybe I don't need a hundred liars to tell me how tomorrow will be brighter. Maybe I need one person who cares enough to sit with me in the darkness today.

Don't call me your sweetheart,
I'm not your sweetie anymore;
your sweetheart left a while ago,
when I walked out that door.

At first, it was just quibbling,
why this, why that, what for?
then it became a battle,
then it became a war.

I just wanted love and kisses,
you wished to be, Top Gun;
what once was two in love,
was no longer any fun.

So I gave you what you wanted,
your freedom and your choice;
I hope that you're contented with,
the sound of your own voice.

So, don't call me your sweetheart,
what we had is void and gone;
and all we have are memories,
like in some old country song.