He tried to remember what they looked like as he saw
Where her nails had sunken deep into the comforter
And where his sweat had flattened the sheets.  
And felt ***** just for looking,
Afraid that their memories could see him in the empty room.

How ******* dare they
Indulge in each other when all it becomes
Is a mess for someone else to notice?
Selfish, entitled, lucky
*******.

And he was ashamed
Because he was happy that he noticed what they did
And because he felt like he was there.
Something so **** about imaginary inclusion.
Is that what they wanted?

Changing the bedding felt like desecration,
Like tearing down the set of a Broadway play.
The show was for him,
The show was for the other,
Who taught them how to act?

It hurts to think
About their hollow bodies
Mashing together.
They’re fake-*** moans that the other customers
probably complained about to their
silent spouses.

It hurts to think
That they whispered the moment away
In their insecurities and
in-the-moment-living.  
Jesus, all for nothing.

And he started to cry,
Thinking about the heat that filled the room.
Letting his heaves mirror their motion, and
Then left,
Their passion still damp.

I cannot drink the milk anymore
And I don’t remember it’s taste.
Memories coagulate together,
But only in my mind.

I think it hurts them
Remembering the bright-eyes
And seeing their friends have babies.

She once said she missed
My silent days
And I think she really missed the days
That made things easy.

Why do I feel guilty
When put at the mercy of time’s
Arrow?

I think it hurts them.

In the end of everything,
When the skies make peace with the sea,
My mind will have left long ago,
But my thoughts will not desert me.
My head and heart have no connection;
I will weigh my feeling with good judgment.
And when the skies turn dark again,
I will seek out some replacement.
But even with broken bones,
I see a great light in the distance.
My head and heart may be far apart,
Yet I would have to be a fool to resist it.
Now the night recoils
And the day has fled
All should stay is light
And yet all I see is red.

My first memory,
Our dog, Maxine
Trying to jump up on to my changing table.
She couldn’t breathe,
She was laughing so hard.

It was Take your daughter to work day.
She got to peer from the side of a Skyscraper
And imagine what all the people were doing
And imagine Herself grown up
And doing important things too.

Her parents were split up
But when She turned eight they spent the day together.
They went to the restaurant She liked and
Visited the Smithsonian.
They all laughed at dumb jokes
And She went to bed feeling warm.

When She was in Middle School
She didn’t like her parents anymore.
She went to a sleepover with strangers
And watched Titanic and made a friend.
It felt like how the teenagers must have felt
In the movies.

Before She left She felt like a kid again.
Not the same, but with the same potential,
Peering ahead at life’s possibilities.
She got drunk with Her friends and
Laughed and recounted all of the
Beautiful nights.

I sit and I try to remember
All of the times I was happy.
Then I feel all of the weight
Of my entire history
The past that is gone
And the future I can’t achieve
Plundering like sand through my hands.

How dare she be allowed to laugh?

The breath of the past was light with normalcy,
Not yet soured by the fear and the hate
And the gusty bruises.
What would you do to feel
The wind again?

Sometimes I remember the soil beneath my feet.
When I do my bones ache for static ground,
For the hot dew of summer morning.
After it collapsed from under me,
I walk with the tenacity of a bird,
My footing always a step behind.
Have you ever
Walked against the earth?

When I heard the screams my lungs would swell with water.
I’d grasp the blade under my pillow
In shallow hopes of repair,
But I knew if I tried I would only float,
Since the ocean does not forgive.
When did you teach
Yourself to swim?

She felt the heat when she saw you,
But she never saw the fire.
We danced around it and pretended
That we knew each other.
And we smiled,
And we laughed,
But your corneas ignited.
In the deepest black the sparks flew
And the heat twisted the corners of your mouth upward like scorched wicks.
I would ask you why you watched us burn,
But to you
We were all just ashes.