And it still hurts
when I am reminded
of how I treated you--
like my favorite pillow;
of how I sang
sad melodies at 2am,
and how you listened,
and how I thought
you really did.

The idea of your kiss is ambrosia and honey.

The idea of your embrace is tasting the galaxies.

The idea of your stare is nectar in my tongue.

The idea of your touch is a lullaby yet unsung.

But the reality that all are but an idea is the sinking of a captain-less boat; a thousand needles in my throat.

The way I fell for you
'Twas fascinatingly hard
You let me in a free fall
Without nobody to guard.

The way I fell for you
'Twas fascinatingly sweet,
Not until you tore me--
When the ground and I meet.

He sings love songs
     without the love
     for the song.

He amuses the crowd,
     the critical throng.

What they don't know
     is that after the show,
     he goes home
     with a wrinkled brow.

It's a different kind of sadness--
     something quite close to madness.

A tub of ice cream cannot still
     a putrid heart, a mind that's ill.

My body is a canvass
Tinted are griefs
Of reminiscent past

My body is a wall--
A mural of every break, every fall

My body is a plate
Etched of anguish my mind berates

I am a paint--
Deep, dark burgundy--
The shade of my soul's ignominy

I am a brush--
Strokes of hate in the evening's hush

I am a clay--
Molded in disappointment and dismay

I am a charcoal--
Smudged by idiocy
And ideas that are shoal

My body is a sculpture--
Crafted with unsightliness and disgust

I am an edifice--
A construction of mars,
Founded by scars

I am the thread of my clothes--
I wear to cover my bones--
   I hide in the closet--
I deeply loathe

I am a masterpiece--
Of repugnance and self-grudge;
Of vexation, of lies--
Of hate! Of hate! Of hate!

I am an art--
A sophisticated tragedy,
An intricate catastrophe
Perfection in all grotesquerie

I shouldn't have thought of it
Shouldn't have picked up my phone
Nor have told you I'm alone
But I did.

I shouldn't have said hello
Shouldn't have let you know
Shouldn't have said it
But I did.

I should not have told you
How I long to hear your voice--
     And heard it above the noise
How my being so craves hue.

But I did, yes, I did
Because I miss you
But what you did-- that's what you did--
Didn't say you miss me too

As wreath of daisies wilt and dry
So do my heart shrivel and die
Drunken with rue-- spirit downcast
Tainted by blues painted by past.

I shouldn't have said it again--
Your cold reply a stab to I--
Rot this soul that's already sunken
But I risked-- a languid sigh.

I shouldn't have done it
Shouldn't have bid
My last 'I miss you'
But I did.