How can I believe
by light of stars,
the things you speak?
I can see it in your eyes
the wine
makes inhibitions weak.

In this light
I'm special.
But this eve I know
that tomorrow
I'll be hidden;
nothing will show.

The faith you see,
the trust you feel
won't hang upon the wall.
By sobriety of sunlight
you'll have
no need to call.

Intoxicate my brain.
But fire in my soul,
is not as high.
When no one
tends the glow
the embers die.

You, master
teach me
what forgetting is.
My back is turned.
I have no need
and nothing to give.

Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers

And I would bite my tongue gladly
for just another taste of yours;
For the way my name glazed off your front tooth.
Each syllable sticking to my collarbones,
leaving red marks on both cheeks.

I want to smell the scent of your laughter.
I want to feel the waves of your sighing chest
kissing the shores of my spine.
I want, again, for you to hold the glacial angles of my jaw,
because you are the only one
who fears not
of the winter that lies beneath my lips.

And sometimes our teeth would kiss if our mouths weren't moving fast enough.
Your nails clenched into the clay spaces between my ribs,
hoping to hold on just long enough
to make an impression on me,
but I don't think you realize
how deep your divots run.

So let me carve my initials into the peaks of your shoulder blades.
Let me write poetry on your skin.
Let me cover you in the ashes of a thousand goodbyes that echo too hot to let go.

Just let me stay.
Let me stay amidst the oak and sage of your backbone.
Let me stay nestled inbetween the dusk and summer,
of what's to come and what's to be.

He picked up the glass,
Right up to his lips,
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth,
As he took consecutive short sips.
He put down the glass,
And sank down in his chair,
As he contemplated his thoughts,
Of every wound, every tear.
He looked through the glass,
And saw his reflection on one side,
But why did he have to see himself this way?
As he put his head down and cried.
He drank his sorrows away,
And emptied the glass soon enough,
He couldn't bear drinking alone,
When the times do get rough.