Let's stop putting the label Bad
On our delicate little planet.
Yes, she has ugly skin on parts of

Her continents. Some sour rain,
Some rash from her seven billion fleas.
But she deserves more.

Yes, so perhaps she's only one blue
Eye on the face of the solar system.
A shivering cyclops

Afraid to meet the gazes of duality,
Yet standing tall against
The Jupiters and Red Giants

Of the immediate Universe.
But there, in the black eclipse-dot
Of her iris,

A smoker quits
For the sake of his children,
And I see what it costs.

So I recline, eyes closed,  
In the warmth of a cigarette ****
Crushed under a heel

In its lastness; a little, empty
Crucifix -now a cross-
That reminds me that the sacrifice  

That any non-smoker (not an ex-
Smoker) would never understand,
Comes from the same place as

Those things that make us stop and
Wonder at the selflessness that
Makes Earth

Not a victim orb of crap, but a spaceship
Where angels hike on their time off
Just to experience

The factors of Humanity
That make us stop putting **** in
ourselves, and start loving.

Don't worry, your mind is beautiful.
We all curse at the pulling of insecure
Splinters from the soft skin of our
Self-esteem.

We bark at what makes us feel
Weak; lesser. Under some sort of attack,
Though the attacks are far, far too often
Imagined.

I too fear at times the anger and unkind
Wishes I may instinctively draw upon others.
Hell, the ugliest things I've ever seen  
Were with my eyes closed.  

Don't worry, your mind is beautiful;
At its purest when you catch yourself.
And put a wrong thought
Right.

What was I saying?
I don't know.

Your kiss has the same effect
On me as the act of walking

Into another room just to forget
What for.

***** nightmares, words whispered;
Arrows dipped in ego's blood
Shot with bows whittled from
Weeping

Willows.
Waking up, red wine
Eyed,
Mouths

Dry from the opposite of
Kissing,
****, we almost broke up
There, didn't we?

Yes. Now, standing alone before
Mirrors, wiping them clean with hands
Wet from regret, unearthing our
Images and trying to

Find them reflected as in diamonds,
Nickle plated gun metal, or something
Else, like the Mona Lisa's glass case
(And as bullet proof,) but seeing

Only the screen of an
Old, dusty tube TV showing
Re-run specials of the
Itchy and Scratchy Show.

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the light
     in the backyard so it stays lit all the next day

But then it is the light that makes you remember.