Quiescent,
You're glaring
At, nebulous presence.
Face to face,
You want me to,
“Be your host?”

A reflection casts its gaze
Gently harrowing
Into, Soul.

Such a gracious ghost...

Submerged in the undertow, now;
Seaweed tangling around ankles deep,
To fight or give up the need to breathe?

So you sink.
So you sink.
So you sink.

Facing the mirror,
Sitting there
On a dusty, antique chair.
Disappearing each day;
Before we know it,
Time has passed away.

“They” say to “Live in the moment.”
What are we waiting for?

Maybe this,                 is it.

I love you's
Were for goodbyes
They were paired
With apologies
With excuses
With control
I love you's
Meant "I own you"
And now
They mean nothing to me
Unless they hurt

She was a rose, pressed into the pages
Of a book, meant to hold a place.
Instead of a page in a book,
She held a place in his heart,
Which she thought she would always have.
But eventually, bookmarks are lost,
And stories are forgotten,
And all that is left is
The smell of the binding
As the book closes for the last time.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

the x wife calls
tells me the children miss me.
her voice
a mirror of broken glass
fragments falling into
the touch of sadness
from her fingers
the soft laughter
of her eyes like a candle
in the night

tonight
twilight comes to play
whispering in my night
quick as life
I hear the sadness
quick as life
I can hear the regret

I 've wounded you

I can only be
what I was
meant to be

I am the candle without the wick

excuse me, i tell her, i've got to go.