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trash bag Jul 2015
“hey” is the only thing you say
pressing your hand against the doorframe 
and leaning in
looking past me as if you would see anything different, but it's all the same
nothing has changed except maybe you and me
and whoever decides to fill my body next
the chain on the door covers your eyes
 and i can't help think about how different you look
like a stranger; one i wouldn't expect to meet me 
at my threshold with groceries in a brown paper bag
now, of course, you only bring me a heart 
and say it's nothing

“hey” is the only thing i say, 
unlatching the chain, and letting you inside
 like i'm letting you drip down my throat
i busy my hands with the locks,
 the locks i put there, at first, to keep you in, and then, eventually, to keep you out
but now it seems, to anybody watching this exchange between our worlds,
like i put them there 
to keep my back turned to you, 
to avoid you while you spread out on the couch 
and let all your dead-eyed visions collect on the coffee table

“hey” is the only thing you say
when you notice the missing ash tray,
the one you used to use as a church,
where each burnt shell was an empty prayer,
and each smoke tendril was a hand to send it up to heaven
now it's just a black spot engrained in the wood
now you're just a black spot engrained in the wood
some things did change, i guess, but nothing as much as the two of us.
i remember when our old bodies fit together so well,
and how they rested so easily right where you’re sitting
i remember when i shared that smoke with you and helped you send it up to wherever you wanted it to go
i want to talk to you about that smoke, now, among other stupid, half-symbolic things that i'm not entirely sure you’d understand or even remember,
but i don't. instead i finish with the locks, which are also stupid and symbolic, and spread out next to you on the couch
i wish i had my own dead-eyes visions to unload next to yours, but then i remember that i left all of mine
somewhere inside of you

“hey” is the only thing i say, and sometimes, its the only thing i can say.
trash bag Feb 2015
you told me you were leaving
because i smoke cigarettes
i stopped smoking in fear
of losing you forever
i went by your place to tell you
that i broke my bad habit
i saw you pressing your lips
against someone new
my walk home was lonely
and the only thing pressed to my lips
was a cigarette
i guess it's time to quit my bad habit:
  Feb 2015 trash bag
Harley Oliver
a piece of art you are
in your worn out sleeves  
and heart shaped eyes
laid out in a bed of cherries
and a field of tulips to share with me
your ocean view windows
that streak the blue sea
and your sheer white pearls
that melt onto me
like chocolate fondue
warm and sweet;
you are the taste, the mouthful
of words that sit on my tongue
get along with your truffle kisses
and your red wine lips
begging for the chateau
to soak in the void
and with a mind shining thought
you traced my back
with the stem of a flower
that went on and on
for the next half hour
will you be my valentine?
trash bag Jan 2015
some days just aren't good for anything at all
feel all those feelings but don't make that call
because nobody knows what you want
if you don't either
trash bag Jan 2015
now i can get a little less sleep
i'm not feeling it yet
it hasn't really kicked in
without hoping for a dream
goodbye to the moon
i don't have to think about you
i have so much free time
hello to the sun
i'm feeling it now
i'm getting a lot less sleep
trash bag Jan 2015
it twists my heart
in a whole new direction
a work of art
is what you used to be
a shot in the dark
isn't always worth it
my heart can't restart
or i just can't find the button

— The End —