let me right a poem
about sad things
but nothing sad
is reality
so let me right a poem
about nothing
….
nothing is pretty boring

i want to string all the pieces of you into
something that fits
but
your edges are jagged and wrong
and
the spaces in my chest are not the way you left them
and
my mouth is too sharp for kissing

i am tired of wet wings and
wax burns

I started taking my coffee black
On the day that you died.

Let's make a deal
that the smoke scented
taste of your tongue
will never leave mine.