My memories are gone
Not that I'd like to remember
The last time she didn't hit me
The last time she treated me better

Let's join a whistle band 
And light matches with our teeth 
Lets ask everyone when they lost track of Waldo 
Cuz I havent seen that ******* since the 10th grade 
Let's believe in all the superstitions 
A little luck is what we've been needing these days 
Lets eat sushi and climb on rooftops when we aren't supposed to 
Just so we can look at the white lights and hope that the height will give us a little clarity 
Lets ask long questions with long answers 
And know that to talk you also have to listen 
Let's watch creepy **** and wear socks with high heels 
We'll be class acts till the day we die 
Though not in the way everyone expects  
Let's spend way too much time together 
And cut through backyards in the snow 
Lets pay for our café  drinks in change 
And ask for favors because we're close 
Let's spill our guts and our laughs 
Because you're the only one who gets me 
Lets spell out words with pennies 
And decide life in ****** thrift store dressing rooms 
Let's cry and be sad 
With the promise to be happy 
And healed when the other is near 
Lets rip up t-shirts 
And change the radio in each others cars 
Let's take a million memories 
And expect the best out of life and gelato ice cream
Let's dry up flowers in the summer to look at in the winter 
And wear too many rings on our fingers 
Let's hang out with ****** 
And rent a red convertible for the summer 
Lets read books and watch Mulan
And take walks and get together just so we can nap
Lets play assassins creed 
And listen to Bon Iver (or Bone Eyever) 
And take a break from thinking too much all the time 
Lets join a whistle band 
And light matches with our teeth Because all of this has meant more to me than a million everythings

She sits on the chair
her wavy hair
still neatly in place
putting on her stockings

as he stands
with his back
to the window
gazing at her

she pauses
her fingers holding
the stocking tops
and looks at him

and says
in her sluttish French
do you want me
back tomorrow?

there is a draught
from the window
touching his naked back
sending a shiver

along his spine
sure
he says
but make it a little later

the wife’s got
a show to see
and she doesn’t leave
till just after 8

ok
she says
pulling up
the stocking

and fixing it
to the clip
shall I bring anything
with me?

no just yourself
he says
and maybe wear
that tight skirt

and creamy blouse
and those black stockings
she stands
and pulls down

her slip
to cover
her underwear
and looks around

for her dress
look
he says beware
of the concierge

she’s a nosey old biddy?
she asks
biddy what is that?
just be careful of her

he says
don’t let her
see you leave
or she’ll tell

the wife
oh I see
sure I will be careful
of the biddy

she says
picking up her dress
from the chair
by the bed

and as she turns away
he studies
her neat ***
the way she climbs

into the dress
her hands so quick
in movement
the finger so precise

like those of a pickpocket
and he sees her leg rise
the stockinged leg
the fineness of the thigh

then she turns toward him
and she smiles
and she starts
on the other leg

and he wonders
what his wife would say
if she came in now
how’d she’d look

then it’s over
the dame’s dressed
puts on her coat
and picks up her bag

and takes the money
he’d put on the desk
and shoves it
into the bag

and sighs
and leaves
and as she goes out
the door

waggling her ***
he knows
he wants her back
some more.

I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament's swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates--the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,--
'Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.

I poured my heart into an empty glass
Couldn't look foward
Too busy drinking to loves long past
Broken shards of my heart
Cuts worse than a razors edge
Effects of wrong love
No more is my solemn pledge
Trust is for the unsuspecting
Blind to the consequences of giving all
So hard to gather yourself again
After that painful four letter fall
Every so often you see your reflection
God places your image in another
Faces them in your direction
But myself too ignorant to recognize my image in plain sight
Will forever be alone on this journey
I trusted my mind with what's left since my soul couldnt see what was right
In front of my eyes
I let it go
Yet in still I try
Forever wondering...
Did I miss a chance
To connect my soul with its missing puzzle piece
Alone cursed to wander...freelance
Well let me finish my glass
Empty with sorrow
So I filled it with regret
Drunk on that four letter word
Thought I released the past...
Seems I haven't..just yet

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
’Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
      The first flower of the plain.

      I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
      The coming-on of storms.

      From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
      The drooping tree revives.

      The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
      The forest openings.

      When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green ***** throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
      And wide the upland glows.

      And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
      And twinkles many a star.

      Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
      And see themselves below.

      Sweet April!—many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
      Life’s golden fruit is shed.

The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
  And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
  And the harpies of upper air,
  That flutter and laugh and stare.

For the village dead to the moon outspread
  Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
  Where the rivers of madness stream
  Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.

A chill wind blows through the rows of sheaves
  In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
  And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
  For harvests that fly and fail.

Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
  That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
  Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
  And looses the vast unknown.

So here again stretch the vale and plain
  That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
  Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
  To shake all the world with awe.

And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
  The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
  Shall some day be with the rest,
  And brood with the shades unblest.

Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
  And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
  Of horror and death are penned,
  For the hounds of Time to rend.

Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear-purchased right;
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise, accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your wakened hate,
    Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
    The constancy and virtue of your love.