He swallowed her words
Too desperate for salvation
To see he was
Choking down razors.

The perfect man for me will not mind that I sometimes snort when I laugh. He will love the way I sneeze in threes and think I am beautiful when I cry into my shirtsleeve. He will love me for the naive way I think all people are good and he will pick me up when I realize they aren't. He will laugh at my stupid jokes, watch terrible movies with me, and always kiss me like it is the last time we'll touch. In the middle of the night, when only the pale yellow moon can see us, he will hold me close to his chest like I am going to disappear in his arms. When we make love, I will be able to feel the passion on his skin and the world will slow to a near stop. The perfect man for me will tell me when I am wrong and admit when I am right, he will love how I wear my heart on my sleeve and will not be intimidated by the passion I live my life with. He will look beyond my past and embrace a future with me. He will kiss the bruises others have left and admire the way I refuse to accept defeat. Most of all, he will love me in the same way I have been willing to love my whole life.

I look at his picture maybe 15 times a day,
And I have to wonder what we could have been
(If he hadn't gone away.)

was
on the evening
of the harvest moon
neurotic tensions
whirling
everything just
stirring  
dreams as visions
come without sleep
and i fall deep
into a cesspool of
cerebration
and the grisly truth
that accompanies
thankful that only
the coyotes may hear
the loud cries
of a broken woman