we kissed on rain soaked
street corners

as each droplet looked
like a crystal on the
concrete

and on your wet lips
I tasted the word

forever

poets long to be held
in the embrace of words

caressed by consonants  
held in the void with vowels

to have letters wrap around their fingers
like fingers

their sadness lies in knowing
that each poem has an ending

and that most are no more
than a drop in the ocean

of history

I am tired of being
a pit stop for your love

I am not here to fix your broken soul
or refuel your depleting lust

my heart has it’s own wound
don’t make me try to heal yours

(as well)

I stay up waiting
for a sign

maybe it is in
the sun rise

or the moon’s fall
as the stars start to fade

and my love wanes
with waiting

I type as I live,
from word to word,
bouncing from the walls
of my brain,
as I try to find another image
of beauty or love,

I type as I live,
in a desperate frenzy
with nicotine and coffee stains,

I type as I live,
because I have no choice, no say, no control
in this

Like the moon and stars

we belong to the night

we do not quiver
when darkness falls

for our hearts and eyes

belong to the midnight sky

scars are stories
with next chapters

they are not
the final lines

they do not mean
you’ve reached
the end of the book