I forget the way to fill



an empty space.

How do I create
when all I've done is erase?

Steal from me
Run your sticky fingers
Across my nearly bare shelves

Take it all
Fill your empty pockets
Until they grow and swell

I won't be happy
Until you strip the paint off my walls

I bloomed like a flower for you.
An annual.

My taste buds paint a picture so vivid
I have to say grace before I let my mind wander

Our first time
in a long time
so dark and so sweet.
I imagine
being yours
beyond the sheets.

Warm body longs for love.
In and out.
So deep you scrape the darkness of my blue-black soul.

Throbbing heart craves release.
Please,
slip and slide
until you've nearly drowned.

You taught me how to see in the dark.

And when you left for the last time,
you turned on the light.

Straight teeth.    
Divine thought.    
Sharp words buried seeds.
Making new,
feeling dead.

They are translucent gray
and dance in the glimmers of light
when the moon is out.

They have four prongs and don't know
when to stop.

They are invisible sometimes,
and just sit inside my head.

They can sprout slowly, inch by
inch from my unknowing scalp.

Or they explode,
making holes.

Promises made
when jeans feel tight.
Overfilling and underemptying
until I wear out.

We are straight lines
powdery and sharp,
carved into perfection.
We sit next to each other
forever
without touching.

Quite funny how words
arranged in a careful way
can become a sword.

I'm the stubborn cigarette
you just can't put out.
You want to walk away,
and you might.
But you will feel guilty
leaving me here to burn.

You will never know the feeling
of the smooth valley between her hips.

Your fingers will not cross
those lands, peaks and hollows.

You won't stumble across buried treasure
or the chance to please a woman
so divine.

I want to make marks
on your body.

Thin stinging fingernail trails
forming paths across your back.

Shallow-bitten divots
adorning your neck.

Burning palm-sized patches
staining your skin.

I want to hear your response
when people ask
who?

Too young for unforgiving teeth,
Green and bitter.
But you thought I was ready
for your love.

Potential wishes,
Newborn dreams and aspirations
waiting for their turn
in a world of cynics.
Will they ever have a chance to fly?
Optimism
is
dead.
But still, they wait patiently.
Just to fall and bear
a new generation, stuck in the same place.