This bottomless hole
                                     She slowly leaves behind,
                                                                                  It keeps growing

She who did not come, wasn't she determined
nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart?
If we had to exist to become the one we love,
what would the heart have to create?

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I've wept for you so much, it's because
I preferred you among so many outlined joys.

Morning, a glass door, flashes
Gold names off the new city,
Whose white shelves and domes travel
The slow sky all day.
I land to stay here;
And the windows flock open
And the curtains fly out like doves
And a past dries in a wind.

Now let me lie down, under
A wide-branched indifference,
Shovel-faces like pennies
Down the back of the mind,
Find voices coined to
An argot of motor-horns,
And let the cluttered-up houses
Keep their thick lives to themselves.

For this ignorance of me
Seems a kind of innocence.
Fast enough I shall wound it:
Let me breathe till then
Its milk-aired Eden,
Till my own life impound it-
Slow-falling; grey-veil-hung; a theft,
A style of dying only.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

She fell too far to the right
For me to be at my center
And hold her
Better than any arms ever could
I couldn't break at the red light
The only way to stop
Is like a star
Falling in a black hole
She fell too far to the left
So far my hands can't reach her
And all I feel
Is the pain
Of what should have been
Nothings really right
          What
        Is
Left?

I Don't Want to Fight Anymore

I don't want to fight with you
anymore.

I am just projecting
the ugly tangled thoughts
that plague my mind.

It's easier to make you hurt
than to feel it myself.

It's easier to access the ugly
than embrace the beautiful.

Most of the time,
it's easier to just hate you
instead of give you the love
you so deserve.

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.