would you whisper softly
   onto my skin
      with your fingertips?

i used to write poetry
about not talking to you for the weekend,
how the words bottled up inside an hourglass
the seemed to stand still
now time flies
and weeks pass while you forget me

i used to write poetry
about sleeping through sunshine
so i could stay up with the stars
worshipping you
now the moon rises
and i fall asleep in an empty bed

i used to write poetry
about star trek and bad ***
with words that rhyme with ****
just to make you laugh
now times have changed
and the metaphors aren't funny

i used to write poetry
about the beautiful, twisted mystery
that you were to all of the world
except for me
*now the pages are blank
and i don't know you at all anymore

i am a garden*
overgrown with wilted flowers once again.

i kissed you a kiss of
see you soon
and i'm gonna miss you;
you kissed me goodbye.
i soared away naively,
gliding on metal wings and
the lift from my own lovesick heart.
it took me months
to understand the sadness in your eyes
and that i was the only one who didn't know
i'd never see you again.

your art
you're art
a collage of beautiful brush strokes