It was a hope, but mostly me,
rust red and tired—
resembling the person who you’d
take the time to tell goodbye.

It was.

Now such a hope is taking shape
as that pretty sight you see
in your rearview mirror—
perhaps,
the shape of the clouds
outside of your window seat—
either way, she
dons designer shades,
a wickedly telling curve
on her lips,
and her *******—
a beacon,
held proudly to the sky.

Crying Night

You said mean
nasty
horrible
teasing
things

you didn’t think
about what you said
to me

I turned my back
and we sat in silence.
The glow of our phones lighting up our faces
mine, sad
yours, oblivious

mine, a way out of our plans tomorrow
yours, Facebook scrolling

then,
the last straw
the tip of the iceberg
it wasn’t the things he said that night
it was everything
it was me feeling like I wasn’t good enough
our hearts filled not equally

mine, full, overflowing, even
yours, unsure,
you turned to me and tried to make me giggle
react
laugh
at a post
I shoved you
and the flood gates opened
first quietly
then raging
heavy, breathe taking sobs
crying crying

then you realized
this wasn’t a joke
you held me tight
and I told you why
All of it, and you laid and listened
silence
shhhhhh you said.
shhhhhh you’re okay.
shhhh

No,
No I’m not
this isn’t okay.


why am I not enough
the way I feel is too much
I shouldn’t have to hold it all back
You’ve turned me into an insomniac

Can you not see me? Am I not there?
I used to be everything to you, now you just don't care

If we pass in the street, you look the other way
I hope to catch your eye but you shy away

You're with someone else now, laughing at his jokes
Fluttering your eyes and lighting up his smokes

I don't even know him but I hope he hurts
When it's his turn to watch your sly little flirts

Feel the pain that I felt as you slipped away from me
Saying "it's me not you" as you explain you must be free

A cloud hangs over me, my stomach has cramps, a knot
What's the point of carrying on?
None, that is what

Maybe I don't have a One

This isn't meant to be depressing
although I agree it may come off that way
I just want to be realistic

Maybe I don't have a One

People die for no reason all the time
I don't mean to be somber
these are just facts
do think they had all fallen in love?
do you think their lives were fulfilled?

Maybe I don't have a One

We're force-fed fairytales
peddled parables of Princes and Princesses
love is just a product
no different than chocolate
or straight to DVD CDs of Dumb and Dumber
Not everybody has a bicycle

Maybe I don't have a One

Don't get me wrong
I'm as hopeless a romantic as the next guy
I'm sure people do find love
and a couple consists of two people
so they very well may make up the majority
but as obvious as it may sound to say
50 is not 100
some is not all
and everybody might not have a somebody

Maybe I don't have a One

This wasn't meant to be sad
I just feel like we're all fed a certain narrative
that may or may not be true
which is fine
I just don't think it's crazy
to admit that
perhaps
possibly

Maybe I don't have a One

The father knew it as soon
as his son walked in
it was his first broken heart
and it had been torn thin

so the father followed after
stomping feet and slamming doors
this was the big one the one
that shakes young men to their cores

The father entered
and dropped to his knees
it's time I tell you son
about the birds and the bees

Heart break like this is normal
but a love like yours was pure
even though you will have many
of this one's meaning I know you're sure

love, real love, is everything
it is a cataclysmic spastic
smattering of everything you held true
suffocating as if you were asthmatic

It's not that love is hard
it shouldn't be
in fact that's how I knew
your mother was the one for me

but somethings aren't meant to be
so when it came time for the power's that be
that took her away from me
the falsehood of love was clear to me

love as if you'll die tomorrow
because you might as well should
because a life without love is silly
stupid, and no good

Home for the Holidays
Isn't it sweet
Home for the Holidays
Nightmare memories played on repeat

Home for the Holidays
The fighting never ended
Hate out in the open
It was better when we pretended

Home for the Holidays
Still nothing's changed
Home for the Holidays
You all continue to act deranged

Home for the Holidays
I'm still the one in the middle
Home for the Holidays
The never solved riddle

At this point

we haven't talked in a while
and maybe that's for the best
I don't love you anymore
perhaps that's for the best too
I hate to romanticize the past
a beneficiary of history like socrates
I'll never be

even so

At this point

we are two completely different people
indistinguishable
not only from each other
but from past versions of ourselves
we are stationary bayonets
placed dutifully and lazily
on top of the guns
we used to be
Always the second choice

At this point

We are strangers to each other
not that we would not recognize each other
but in the sense
that if I waved to you
or you to me
the other would not know what to do

At this point

I don't feel like checking in
because I know the past was better
and I assume the future will be too
its the middle of the story
the part you don't really need
but where you're still unsure
where it might lead
so how am i?

cautiously optimistic

At this point