I can't always let it be
forgotten like a flower is
forgotten. Withering in a
vase on a kitchen table
next to the finest china
and silverware.

So move the pieces into play
and everything'll go according
to plan. A subtle smirk
and spark of confidence, pawn to D5.

Locking eyes, you're playing a game
and you don't even realize. Your skills
are amateur at best, and I'm a cold
calculating monster.
Queen to D4.

Before long, pieces lay in puddles
of glass on the outskirts of the
battlefield of perfect little black and
white squares. You've lost your little
soldiers and your little court with a
wink and a laugh.
Rook to D8, checkmate.

So lay me down
in the coffin beneath
the sea, that's exactly
where I want to be.
Salt water building pressure
on the wood like the pressure
that you put me under each
and every day. Let the wood
splinter like so many lost lovers
and friends and let the water
fill my lungs and ears, bubbles
exploding from my mouth like
the arguments we use to have
to the backdrop of silverware
falling on linoleum. Let it fill my
body with **** and vinegar and
let the light that you cherished
so much fade away from my eyes
like headlights in the distance.

You've conditioned yourself
not to care, but I'm still
standing on the corner
with rain pouring down my
back like the lies that pour
from your mouth, bitter
and so ******* obvious.

You've conditioned yourself
not to care, but I'm still
by your side, trying to hold
your hand, with a reassuring
smile and a promise that everything
will be just fine, as long as you take
the time and try.

You trip over apologies
like I stumble into love,
accidental and bruised.
They dribble out the side
of your mouth and onto the
letter you're writing for the
benefit of you and you alone.
You'll tuck it beneath my
windshield wipers, whispering
the words that you always
fall back on, "I'm sorry."

So with pictures and
letters burned, where do
you go after you've been
baptized in fire? Flames
licking your lips and words
like kisses from lovers past.

After all, when it's said
and done, you're just
lines scribbled in a green
felt journal and I'm
the least of your concerns.

CROSSROADS
by Beth Faulkner

When you know I'm dead, don't say my name
for I will never move on.
I would hear your voice and return.
I'd live in this eternal waiting room
Watching memories like home videos.
Pausing at the wonderful times,
fast forwarding through the hard,
rewinding and playing over and over
to hear you ask if I shall love you always
,and myself answer "till the end of days"
I need to leave,but I make every excuse not to
Watching the memories until our last moments
Then I hear you call my name and begin again..

******

I know you're dead, and I still whisper your name
for I will never move on.
I hear your voice and beg for you to return
to the eternal waiting room of my mind.
Watching my memories like home videos,
pausing at the time where you belonged to me
fast forwarding through my times without you
rewinding and playing over and over
knowing that I shall love you always
'Til the end of days.
I need to leave, move on.
But every memory is a reason not to.
Watching them until my last moment,
until I whisper your name, and begin again..