(i) think you're gone.
my heart is (still). it no longer beats for you.
having someone to (love) is wonderful.
but (you) took my wonderful and turned it to pain.

d.l.b.

Ophelia has
flower petals
growing beneath
her tongue, and
I can taste
honeysuckle
when I kiss her.

There are highways
in the grooves
of her hips.
I like to trace them,
and get lost
somewhere between
intimate whispers and
an unsteady heartbeat.

Ophelia has a
mocking jay stuck
in her throat, and
it sings to me
when she finds
herself stuck in
tangled vines and
dwindling
self-confidence.

She weeps at least
an ocean a day,
and that's more
than my diminutive
hands can catch.
I think I'd like to
spend a few eternities
exploring the peculiar
jungles of Ophelia.

Today, was the same as they say
No different from yesterday
Likely, tomorrow won't change
But one thing is new
What I know
And what I knew
Or at least thought
It's not about loving the girl
It's about loving with the girl
Growing together
Becoming one through a shared love
And in the end
Loving her anyways

There's something
About listening
To the rain
Fall on the streets
Below
While looking
Out from the
Third story
Window
That I find
So peaceful.

As I hit my
Cigarette
The last few times
Before dying it out,
Like everything I've
Ever dreamt about,
I stop to wonder
Where my life
May go.
I could live to see the
Age of twenty-five,
But I guess time
Only knows.

that night in december
was when we came
to be-
we knew each other
it seems
in passed
distant memories.
this cold winter
evening was our chance
to know one another
as we are now;
retracing footsteps
getting back to basics.
funny how we
reconvened at a church
and it was so suitable
for you to fall in love with me
right
there
because our hearts
aligned
in a holy
design-
as if it were truly God
putting us back
together.

brown blotches
feathers in no way
glossy
unnoticed
and
dull.
small fragile
bones.
a sister of
depression,
people will always pass over thee.
of course when there's
creatures like cardinals
with
flaming red bodies.

but eyes cannot tell all
for ears that open too
can never mistaken
the ever sweet
tune of the
bird
almost always
forgotten;
but not quite.

i am your *****
and i'm craving you again
you fill me up
until all i can do is cry
and take it
like a good little girl
but isn't the whole point
that i am not a good girl
i am your *****
and we like it that way