i read that astronauts
can tell from outer
space which cities are
newly built because
electricians are making
streetlights out of
sodium vapor now as
opposed to mercury,
so now road outlines
glow orange

and newer cities tend
to be more geometrically
planned, all straight
edges and such, while
older cities are made up
of frantic curves and
corners

and i wonder if i look
to you like i have been
worn and used, am i
frenzied and dull, or
am i new?  maybe my
jagged lines have
been sanded and smoothed

maybe
i still
glow

My lips miss yours.
So much so that I can feel them
Growing arms and hands so that
They can write thoughtful letters to yours
About how if they had eyes,
They would see nothing but yours;
Blind to any other love.
They write about how
If they had feet,
They would take any number of steps
Just to reach yours;
Just to touch
Even for a moment,
To hold their old friends close
In a warm embrace.
They write about how
If they had wings
They would let the wind whisk them
Halfway around the world
As long as yours were waiting on the other side.
They write about how
If they had a heart,
Every beat would sing for yours.
I sit in silence and watch;
An act of pure passion.

You are above me, for the simple fact that you are not me.
I am but a lonely piano player, who resides in the corners
of restaurants and blackened old hearts. You, with

glimmering eyes, and mischievous lips, dance barefoot
against the earth, the arches of your feet covered in free-verse.
I do not approach you; you are above me.

And here is something you may have overlooked
One room’s floor is another room’s
ceiling, and while you sway and dance and live and wander

you are inevitably doing so on my dreams. Burdened and breathless,
I sit and watch you move, up in the stars and the night and the
glow of the moon.

I look up and i see Heaven, you look down and you
see Hell. And as you bow your head to pray, just remember,
you are above me.

If this is honesty,
then I’m tired of being afraid.
If it’s not, then I’m just tired.
(of being afraid)
It’s exhausting.
It’s all exhausting.
Waking up.
Falling asleep.
And yet I do it so well.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the ocean.
It doesn’t mind change.
Maybe I shouldn’t either.
Maybe I should.
Maybe I should take up smoking.
At least I’ll taste something different
inside these lungs.
I knew you wouldn’t stay for very long.
I could tell by the way
you looked at the airplanes, the clouds,
me.
I meant it when I said you’re worth it.
I’m sorry you didn’t rea—
I’m sorry for all the apologies.
It’s taken 8 months to figure out
that this wasn’t my fault.
I’m still standing;
rotting crossbeams and chipped up paint,
I’m still standing.
Maybe I should take up smoking.

Never ending wait
As I see things live and die
I watch the world go by
Yet I stay the same
Stood still in time frame.

Can't stand waiting
Its a pain that's aching
Just a waiting game
Feel like I caught a flame
Stood still burning
Forever hurting
Never ending wait~

When I fall asleep my eyes meet yours.