If you leave me
I will send you poetry
And if we marry
And you leave me
I will send you poetry
And alimony
And if your new guy beats me
I will still send you poetry
Your bones could leave this sad world baby
And I'd just switch to elegies

They played in the Garden of Eden,
After hours, when the street lights when out,
And the pavement cooled down,
They drank from green hoses,
Fine aged wine in a different world,
He gave her a boost,
Soft hands on bark,
So close to touching the moon,
The earth beneath her,
No fragile wings opened,
They chopped down the tree the next day,
No Garden of Eden,
And no little girl to play,
He spends his days making paper airplanes,
Thinking of the sky that took his bestfriend.

-

When was the last time
you climbed up a ladder,
looked at the sunset
through periscope eyes

Drank from the cabinet
marked liquor don’t enter,
watched an old movie
with tear drops and sighs

Danced in the garden
with daffodils watching,
sat down to dinner
and found something sweet

Floated on marshmallow
clouds on a Monday,
painted the lines
on the wrong one way street

Sang in a meadow
with butterflies playing,
swam in the dessert
neck deep in the sand

Picked up a quarter
and called it a dollar
even though ladybugs
slept in your hand

Read a new poem
and found something like this,
rolled both your eyes
and then wore a smile

Look at the bright side,
all that it cost you
was just spending time
with me for a while

Finally the time has come.
Laying in my bed again
I’m ready to see you
and say goodbye to this pain.

I can see you and kiss you.
I am finally by your side.
I don’t want you to leave
I wish you would stay for a while.

The sad thing is
no matter how good it feels
deep down in my soul
I know soon you’ll be gone.

I know you’ll leave me aside
the moment I open my eyes.
For I know, this is just a dream
And in vain “I love you” I scream

And it wouldn’t be clever
but I would however,
If I can’t have you,
dream you forever.

And maybe I will one day
When I say goodbye to this world
When I go.
Maybe ill dream of you still

when I’m dead.

Sinister curtains
drape an unsuspecting window
of moldy caulk
and hairline cracks
letting cold in, cold out,
splitting plastered walls
around a faded outline
of an empty frame,
slanted on stretched wires,
where your picture
once rested

Cloth of blackened residue
dangling from rusted rods,
un-soft fabric in dust crammed air
sifting unnoticed,
settling around knick knacks
leaving shapes and fingered designs
on silent end tables
staring up at
this dark veil
that hangs
with you