here's to those with seasonal affective disorder that made it through the east coast's incredibly long winter. and here's to those that didn't.

He asked if he could kiss me,
and I told him no when I realized
it wouldn't be his face I saw
when I closed my eyes,
when I realized it would mean
hours of remembering, keeping me up
till morning light,
recounting the good times,
what I had, and what I lost.
When he asked if he could kiss me,
I somehow knew he wouldn't be able
to rekindle the fire in my eyes
I somehow knew he couldn't fix
what had been broken inside.
So when he asked if he could kiss me,
I turned away and told myself
that I couldn't be put in
the position to be hurt again,
couldn't experience love again
until the longing died.
Being needed, I'd decided, would
only make things worse.
So when he offered me his heart
to hold, I handed it back to him,
and told him not to be so trusting.

The slightest change made all the difference.

After you left, suddenly I could
look at the alphabet, and 26 letters
would form into a thousand different
memories, song lyrics became
varying explanations you would never give me,
and you were the scent I woke up to in the morning,
regardless of the fact that
I haven't been close enough
to actually smell you in weeks.
Your entire essence is still encoded within me,
like the most complex sequence the
human mind can dream up,
I have you memorized.
From the scars on your knuckles,
to the marks on your bedroom wall that put them there.
The way the corners of your mouth twitched
whenever you were thinking,
to the small shudder you gave whenever
I ran my hands through your hair,
or the little rasp in your voice when
you needed sleep, but just couldn't get it.
I am not ashamed to say I have
committed it all to memory,
right down to the outward jut
of your otherwise perfect front-teeth,
and the way your hands sometimes
felt like they were a natural born part of me,
because sometimes, it doesn't matter
how it started, or why it stopped,
sometimes, what happens in-between,
just doesn't need forgetting.

The slightest change ended a legacy.

Sometimes,
the decision to
give up,
is made for you.

Turnstiles tick
with the constancy of clock hands,
while I try to calculate the depth of a second
waiting and wondering
if you'll ever again grace me
with your presence.

You shattered my insides with something wicked.
I didn't know to expect this, but I got it
shoved down my throat at the last possible second,
a hurt I didn't think you were capable of administering.

You shattered my insides with something wicked.
I suppose I'll become a heap of organs in your closet
because my skeleton is just dust in the wind,
what more could it be, after the heat of the incinerator?

You shattered my insides with something wicked.
The thing is, I don't know what I expected.
Maybe I was dreaming of some happy ending,
but woke up to realize that reality always shines through.

You shattered my insides with something wicked.

Your love is like an abandoned freight train
crushing anything in its chosen way
it seems you enjoy causing so much pain
leaving me trampled, and in great dismay.
There is an undying weight on my chest
the hole in my heart is fresh and gaping
I am clueless as to what you'll do next.
This pain, I see no sign of escaping.
But you'll move on, as all ex lovers do
you'll forget how our fingers interlocked.
I'll be another memory for you,
my undying love, ever blocked.
I can pray one day you'll regain sight,
and be together again one day, we just might.