I’ve been waiting
for ever
for someone
to get you drunk

So I could read
the words on
a screen that I
really needed to
hear from your mouth

The night I knew
you got the alcohol
choked down your throat
I waited up for
these texts from you:

I miss you.
I miss you so much.
I miss seeing you everyday.
I miss waking up next to you.
I can’t stand the idea of being away from you.
I wish I stayed.

But all you will say
the next time you see me
—if you ever want to see me is
“I hope my texts didn’t wake you up”

They didn’t.

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

I'd pour my soul out
in this poem,
but it's already gone.
I gave it to you.

Sometimes we're too much,
and not enough,
for people who are everything,
and nothing at all.

Illuminating
Vivid
Blinding
Gone

Like headlights of a passing car

Hemingway said,
There is quite the difference
between kissing goodbye
and kissing goodnight.

I wanted a
"See you later",
but instead got the
"Goodbye".

Steinbeck stated that
Nothing good gets away,
If it's right, it happens.

If that's the case
how did we always end up feeling so
wrong?

Salinger suggested
that after falling in love
you never know
where the hell you are.

This, I can say is true.
Where the hell are we?

Dickens declared that
The truest wisdom
comes from a loving heart.

Yet a heart in love
can sometimes turn out to be
the least wise.

My friend, I think I'll just stick with
Orson Welles' theory:
"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone."

Anything else is simply illusion.