I'm scared.
I'm scared of waking up one day
and realizing I didn't do anything.
I didn't do enough.
I'm scared I'll never travel or go places.
I didn't try hard enough.
I'm scared I won't be successful or secure.
I didn't work hard enough.
But most of all,
I'm scared for my happiness.
I'm scared for you,
of losing you.
And knowing that
I didn't love enough.
Please.
Don't let me wake up scared.
Let me wake up to you.

whenever I smoke,
the cigarettes all feel
like you.
with them I can't breathe,
yet smoking's all I
wanna do.

I don't know where I'll be
In 4 years,
But I hope it's somewhere beautiful
And with you.
I don't know where I'll be
In 3 years,
But I hope it's staring at the stars
And with you.
I don't know where I'll be
In 2 months,
But I hope it's on a park bench
And with you.

I don't know where I'll be
In 1 day,
But I hope it's somewhere beautiful
And with you.

                  t.s.

THE GENTLEMAN OF SHALLOT

Come Spring...

I paint my little room
all yellow

fill it with
daffodils & jonquils

drag in a giant
mirror

(left in the back yard)      

so large

it takes up
all the wall

giving the illusion
of another room

as if my room
were now not so

small.

Sometime the trompe d'oeil
fools even me

& I walk into
the imaginary room.

'Ouch! '
my reflection shouts!

Come Spring...
...came you!

(totally unexpected)      

& my playing with
perspective

hath you enthralled.

I'd catch you
catching your
reflection observing you

observing
the mirror couple

as they
mimiced us

watching our every
more

you thought it so
sensual

or could pretend to be
at a small ****

when it was only
us

again

&

again.

Bodies of flesh & blood
bodies of glass.

You breathe
upon the mirror

tracing our names
with a fingertip

fragile words
made of breath

'...this love...will last...! '

*

When we break
up

the mirror
stayed intact

except for a jagged
lightning crack

& now it was I
who watched

like a gentleman of Shallot

the couple
in the mirror

(the ghosts of
memory)      

making love

bodies of flesh
& blood

bodies

of

glass.

You interlocked your fingers with mine
And you said it was love.
You pressed your lips to my forehead
And you said it was love.
You gave me wilted flowers
And you said it was love.
Your words clutched at my throat
And you said it was love.
Your hand slipped and left a red mark
And you said it was love.
You left a bruise this time
And you said it was love.
You broke my wrist now
And you said it was love.
You shoved me into a mirror
And you said it was love.

I'm lying cold in the ground now
And you still said it was love.

                      t.s.

I blame it on the easy things,
my parents,
past relationships,
black holes.
But it's always been me
that's been in
control.
Deciding to stop
when they told me to go.
Screaming out "yes"
as I was choking down "no."
Pressing the pedal
when I should've gone slow.
My actions and my words
never quite match up.
Saying I'm healthy
as smoke fills my lungs.
Calling myself an atheist
but telling it to God.
Sitting here wondering,
When will I stop?
I can blame it on the easy things,
stimulants,
a chemical imbalance,
the doctors white coat.
But it's always been me
that's been in
control.