How many times do I have to regress
and regret all the times
I've faltered?
Should I relive and revive all
my sins and wrongs,
create and shape my own private hell?
Is it not what I deserve?
To bury the past in shallow graves
so the rain may reveal
the skeletons of my loves past
yet never gone -
what of the dirt on my hands?
Is it not plain to see the time
I've spent digging holes within?
Ask not of me what you dare not ask of yourself.

In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.

It's like I'm writing letter
after letter after word
after sentiment and sentimentality
to you.
"You"
This elusive love has not left
my bones yet
nor will it ever.
It has seeped into me,
and no matter how many things
I write and say and do,
it is here to stay.
I'll fill pages with you,
thoughts and whispers and prayers.
Maybe, sometime, parts of me will move on,
but the parts I have given to you
will always be yours.

Forgive my silence;
I know not what to say.
My heart is hardened on this matter,
and I'm ashamed of how deftly
I have, once again,
taken another apart.
You faced me,
now I cannot face you
to reveal that which I know.
I am a fool in many ways.

Dreams of you -
a person never even met.
Chased around a thrift store,
second chances abounded.
A house promised and built
at the foot of a dam,
we knew better.
What monstrous water
should drown us
in our longing,
cracks shown in words
and walls.
It's like the subconscious mind
knows all along
and produces images of
your words before they are
consciously digested.
How can you be found
in dreamscapes and a spotless mind
when you have been lost
in reality

It worries me that the world still spins
without you
and you and you and..
I never wanted you to go,
but I was never present so
how can I ask you to stay?
I've made blood promises to myself,
could you understand?
I've been shaped in ways as you have;
do the pieces I lay before you
not reveal me?
I am stretched and lonesome
of lovers past and future,
in search of a puzzled soul
as puzzled as mine.