since lies are sweet
and the truth is bitter
i'm not surprised
i liked you better

I can’t go back and read anything
I’ve written in the last year.
I don’t know if I ever will.
It makes my stomach hurt.
So I’ve kind of quit writing;
for now.
I don’t need to remember this
part of my life.

Shell casings strewn
On a rooftop
A grassy knoll
An underground garage
This is what ensues
When you hate the man
In front of you in line
And he happens
To step into Texas

All these poems we write about this one specific person.... endless words, endless hope.
Endless dissapointment.

You broke her into a thousand pieces
So you could find your missing one.