a broken mug.
a shattered piece of pottery lying in a puddle of three hour old coffee
(black with two sugars, just the way you like it).

that was the last straw for you.
the end of us.

i didn't mean to knock it over.
i was just trying to move my easel,
but in the process the handle got caught and your cup went flying.

against the door frame it hit,
the thundering smash amplified in my horror.
it was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

i quickly tried to clean it up,
but as i heard your footsteps going down the stairs i could feel my heart sink.

when you entered the look on your face made me freeze in my tracks.
the twisted rage in your eyes was enough to send me cowering.

apologizing was my only strategy,
wails of "i'm sorry!" rang through the house.
you raised your hand to strike me,
and i waited...

but nothing came.
you stood above me, as powerful as a hurricane, but you did not move.
instead you opened your mouth.

every hurtful thing you could think of came spewing out,
digging up incidents from months ago,
you knew exactly what would tear me to pieces.

i sat there taking it all in,
hoping that you'd let it all out.
but every word that seeped through your teeth was a slash to my heart;
i think i would have rather had the fist.

and then the worst thing you could've said-
"we're over."
just like that you were storming out of the house, grabbing your things.

i was crying and pleading, begging you to stay,
but you were gone.
i watched you get in your car and drive away.

another broken relationship.
you left me crumbled on the ground sobbing, only one thought running through my mind.

"it was just a mug."

cookie tins and tea
your faded grade school drawings
and her chipped birdbath

I'm the monster clawing at the walls.
You gave me the taste for your blood and then locked me in here.
Your scent stains every surface in the room;
Tantalising but with no flesh to sink my fangs into.
Rabid dog-type wildness becomes me,
Transforms me into a thing driven by madness and instinct.
You are the prey with footprints but no body.
I am the predator never knowing satiety.
Pacing replaces hunting, I'm starving,
And your constant, elusive presence has me frenzied.
Viscera begin to litter the room.
Yours or mine? I don't know. I'm starving.

It's OK not to be inspired.
You can look at a sunset
Without seeing the colours as smudges of chalk
On the divine, stretched-out canvas of sky.
And you don't have to write everything down,
Because not everything has to be permanent.
Some things only last for as long as you remember them,
And it doesn't make them any less special
Just because they weren't written down or spoken life into.
Existing is art, and creating something
That no-one ever gets to hear is still art.
You're a poet even when you're not rushing to your notebook
Before the words fall through your fingers, slippery with desperation,
Motivation, inspiration for the next poem.
So slow down, because if you forget your masterpiece
Because you were enjoying a careless moment of misplaced inspiration,
Who cares? Even if no-one saw it, you know you created an awesome poem.

Whether you're searching or not,
when you find, stumble upon, trip over that moment
That creaky stairstep,
that mug that fits your hand perfectly,
that note you can't help but play once you've found it,
that shooting star
Whatever creates that serotonin, that dopamine,
that norepinephrine

What do you do about it?

What eats up your sadness?

Other people's?

A man uses his hands to tell a story.
A tall man in a suit walks by.
And on this side of the glass, with Mumford strolling through the air, the glare from the sun reflecting off of the cars parked in the street is just...

enough to obscure the details of the faces across the room.
And the coffee is good, as always.

A red bandeau and blue flannel.

pink scars
peppered her lithe limbs
flower petals incised
on peach skin

moss coursed
withered yellow-brick channels
sloping loosely down
the crooked river mouth

clouds bulged
glazed heavily over the sun
like a flashlight
engulfed in sheets

lightning sliced
the pane of sky splintered
air ignited instantly
and danced around us

A rhyme written for life
To end all life's strife
In heart doth it flow
In lips a smile to glow
To them in darkest fear
Courage of love ever near
To them lost and lone
A sweet word reassured tone

In hurdles to fate them that fall
Mock not yet felt be their call
Love hath been torn
Fortune and fame be gone
Yet Ink from a hand in life etched
Deep from heart words fetched
Wheels of destiny doth turn
Fuelled by souls that burn

A robin and eagle not the same
Yet with wings play natures game
A water hole attract a deer in fear
A tiger hidden in grass ever near
A bee doth die with its sting
Yet sweet honey it doth bring

Seldom sacrificed human life
To end earthly strife
Seldom a hand for the fallen soul
To injustice a cry foul
Seldom the hungry be fed
To orphans a warm bed

Rhyme of life indeed
One day forget greed
One day plant loves seed
One day give care to need
One day heal them that bleed
One day hungry to feed
Rhyme of life in need