Planning the last date
Similar to planning a funeral
Instead of ordering lilies
I plan on ordering kisses
How many are enough
I know I’ll cry
We can’t stay together
For fear of resentment
I don’t want to use empathy
Like the siren uses her song
Love must be organic
So I grieve
I’ll read Neruda until I get over you
I’ll play Liszt until I move on
But I’m afraid my eyes will tire
And my fingers will bleed

A spirited moon
   'neath furtive glances,
      anguished of despair
looked upon hushed
  entangled constellations
      and heeded a warning,
for he knew well of lavishing
    recherché intricacies,
mattered naught how exquisite
  nothing lasting could come
    of liaisons's effusive grandeur,
       'tween clandestine stargazers

Do not act surprised.
When you treat your friends like ghosts
and they slowly fade.

I woke up in a fright.
I don't recall last night.
Was I with my crew?
Maybe it has to do,
with the hooker, laying to my right.

I feel like I write too many sad things so here

My parents grew up in a town
that everyone drove through
but no one could remember the name of
and the trees grew in perfect rows
like city buildings.
It was a  place that had one school with every grade,
one diner that everyone drank coffee at,
and one church that everyone went to
no matter their beliefs.
My parents grew up in a town
where the tombstones outnumbered the people
that hid behind wavy seas of green
where no one can see them
unless you need to place flowers on the mounds
for your own sake.
My parents grew up in a town
where the number one place
for a crime scene
wasn't a dark alley
or sleazy bar
but in your own damn living room.
My parents grew up in a town
where tragedy arose like clockwork
yet was always treated as a surprise
solved with
light, feathery words that held
no weight
like a band aid that always
seemed to get ripped off.
And the best way to talk about solutions
was to keep your mouth shut.
Ignorance is the speediest way
to keep your town perfect.
You had to hold on to your own ideas
and choke the others out.
My parents grew up in town
where you could only see the surface
decorated with smiling faces
worn like masks.
and what lies beneath
was only shown to the human eye
when it was too late.

I'd describe you as
the pale yellow haze before
the coming rain storm.

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