It’s not a question of
who
but a question of
where
I am.

I am the median between the street and the sidewalk
I am the threshold of every waiting room
I am the space between spaces
I am shadows looming
and fumes pooling above puddles
of spilt kerosene

neither seen
nor heard,
but felt
in the vignette of a dated photograph
the border between
fine
penciled lines

I am the mist after rain
I am scars
and streaks where tears have stained the shells
of crustacean people
I am crushing hangovers
and embers glowing

Who am I?

I am the
    spaces
       between
spaces

Stairwells and parking lots
unmarked graves
        condensation on a whispered word
     floating up into
     frigid twilight

          under an off-white
half-
                               moon.

The sun is resplendent and warming.
on this bench in front of these shops in a town we’ve never been to.
Italy’s a lot nicer if you’re in a small town.

I’m watching her peel an orange
slowly,
meticulously
she’s removing the skin from the meat.

She reminds me of a boxer wrapping his hands
before a big fight.

The last moment of meditative solitude
before the **** hits the fan.

She’s finishing with the peel now, setting the pieces on the bench next to us
as she splits it in half, an aerosol of juice sprays from the orange
she hands me one half
and begins to eat the other herself.

I peel the segments apart, eating them slowly
and spitting the seeds into the gutter.
she’s smiling,
the juice running down her chin,
and neither of us are speaking.

Later I’m smelling the citrus on her fingers
as she runs them through my hair;
it’s barely long enough to run fingers through,
and I’m thankful for that.

I’m thankful for that orange.
I’m glad I saw that small town,
the one without tourist attractions or snakeoil peddlers
I’m glad my scalp ever knew her citrus fingers.


it came,

I saw,

it went.

I either care too much
Or I don't care enough
It's like I'm playing a never ending
Tug of war against myself
Too much pushing and pulling
Wondering and waiting
Is it worth the time
Or am I going insane yet?
And even after taking steps back
To see things more clearly
My perspective remains the same
And the image is blurry
I can't decide what's right
And I'm running out of time
To finally make up
My ever changing mind

Drop the mask and façade
I need to see the truth
What is actually there?
What is actually you?
And what have you done
To try to make me stay
Even when it seems
Like I'm pushing you away
I miss the way it used to be
When you actually tried
Now I'm falling for you harder
And I'm scarring my pride
But what is actually hurt
Isn't the fact that you're fading
But the fact that I was wrong
When I thought I could change it

And maybe after this
I'll finally learn
How to point out the liars
Before I get hurt
But mistakes are inevitable
Even for me
I'm not the perfect person
I wish I could be
But I'll remember the past
When I'm living every day
I won't let people trick me
Won't listen when they say
That they can give me the world
But they have their fingers crossed
Because I can't lose my head
Or ever get lost
For the fear of unreturned love
Is something to hate
Because it's bound to happen sometime
Despite your effort to delay it

And well the seasons change
And memories fade
But the lesson will always
Remain the same
You'll have to face lies
Disappointment and heartbreak
But hold onto yourself
It's the only thing you'll take
Because most everything eventually
Crumbles and falls
But if you're still there
Standing up tall
You'll be able to start over
Get a fresh start
To reopen the wounds
You've sealed on your heart

more than I want to forget
I want to remember
you are a quiet calm
that I want to detail as you sleep
the tint and shade of your eyelids
as you inhale
exhale
illuminated by a soft glow
I want to remember
your voice was a river
when whispering about love
rushing, returning
in a rhythm
that matched
the slight upturn
of the corners of your lips
as if you just remembered I'm next to you
I want to remember
the small noises of your nature
your body ticks
like  a grandfather clock waiting for the sunrise
you make tiny noises in the bottom of your throat
as you move
you have told me you love me thousands of times
without opening your mouth
I wish to touch you
but I am afraid that if I do I will disturb your surface
as if you were water
ripples running over your skin
more than I want to forget
I want to remember
every piece
of you

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high gright tendrils
and sang:

Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood’s edge.

You were everywhere.
You were in the books I read,
You were in the songs I listened,
You were in the poems I wrote,
And you were even with me—
in my head, in my veins.
Everywhere I go,
You’re with me.
It seems impossible,
To even breathe without you.
I need you like I need cigarette at 3am.
I need you like I need coffee at 5am.
And it’s like my heart bleeding,
Knowing you don’t need me.
I'm all empty,
left bleeding by you,
who swore to love me.
But for you, I’ll bleed myself *dry.

It’s easy to love a ghost, hard to love a breathing soul.
But we try.

Hard to build a home from the ashes of careful memories stolen by the careless winds,
Growing fond of the cold and safe in the silence.
A stranger’s words dripping from empty lips stay the night for promises’ sake,
Returning with different faces.

Then, for no reason beyond a change in the weather or a penny found on the ground,
A stranger asks to stay.
Stories are slow and some pages lost,
As shy laughter finds its way into dusty corners.
Tears come and hands linger,
Weaving words on chests to keep warm at night.
Far beyond knowing the end of the story, tracing footprints made a thousand times,
We make it to the edge of the earth, and find it’s not so scary.

When the stranger tells me his name, I find I already know it.
I’ve known it since he asked to stay.


It’s easy to love a ghost, hard to love a breathing soul.
But we do.