she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"

I've been drinking a lot but I'm alright. Been thinking a lot about tonight and how it hangs over my head like clock pieces. This isn't one of those deep in thought pieces or even, "at least I thought," pieces.. I haven't thought about words in a while. Maybe just hers. They made me smile and absurd it may seem that from a night of 5 minutes comes 5 weeks of daydreams but it happens and I'm as surprised as you were. True words would have been nice then as they hurt now but I'm trying to get back to equilibrium best I can. The feeling of balance between joy and pain because I've been told I would get some of each but the it's more of the same and the former seems out of reach. Now, don't get it confused because I haven't had a bad life at all now, just enough of the bad thoughts  being my last thoughts and the fact that I couldn't seem to write them all down or write at all now with just a ***** week I thought I might seek some solace in words I'll try and type and see them all come out now. A 3:47 AM rant, when anything happening in that early of the AM can't be too coherent, I stumble through editing in hollow hopes you'll ever hear this. I've never been the type to make myself stand out or feel distinguished but know that with the right words now, I really do mean this.

I'm getting asked a lot more often as I enter my mid 20s, "What do you want to be?" And I always think, with a question like that to a guy like me, what are you expecting my answer to be? Some long winded rant where I want to change the world or eliminate poverty and be the leader when all this occurs? All noble causes but with each time asked, I'm finding I'm giving longer pauses because there's something bigger and better first. If I'm going to start this change, my heart should be coming first so if you ask me what I want to be, my only answer is:

Hers.

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it