He was the kind of man who
Rarely said, “I love you” first.
Hearing him say those three
Magic little words before I did
Always caught me off guard,
Like a child digging in the
Cookie jar and getting caught
Red handed by his mother.
I smile like the child does
When he’s finally allowed
A cookie for dessert.
The love we shared
Was like a family
Before it had even began.
I am the child that grins
Every time I’m allowed a cookie
And he is the mother that
Always gives in to my cravings.

Patiently waiting with wide eyes is she
The ******* the clouds who gets caught up in dreams
Looking through the fluff and onward towards the sunshine
As rays burst in blues and yellows within her eyes
Such wondrous sights as she looks down below
Held by the warm light, never to feel the snow
The rain falling down only to quench her ruby lips
As wisps of the clouds run between her fingertips

it's funny
how much I revere you
how much I want to dot you eyes and cross your teeth
to all of my friends I sound like a corny school speaker
ideals, ideals,
ideas of fighting some good ******* fight
but what have I won?
what have I fought for?
isolation?
anonymity?
I dropped out of school for you
threw myself to your will
drank what you gave me
smoked with no complaints
and I've never felt so much of a need for validation
and don't act like i'm the bad guy
you're so fickle that I can't tell if you're coming
or going right out that door for some other schmuck
with less to say and a pair of skinny jeans
I'll drink you off tonight
******* out of my system
let go of you for a while
before I come crawling back to you in the morning

these jeans aren't clean little lady
a months worth of nights forgotten still clinging to the denim
and no
I don't know what that stain is
but you keep twirling your **** back side
to the back end of the beats of this song that I don't know
and yes I do have an accent
came here tonight from all the way across the great big Atlantic ocean just for you
just for tonight
just for tonight let's pretend like we've known each other for a lifetime
no,
no costume for tonight
I'm a college drop out wannabe wordsmith with a tongue sharper than this wit
Mr. feet never been cold
I like my whiskey neat
and you look messy
let's take a midnight stroll back to my place
and yeah it's messy
what's it to you?
I don't like the way my bed feels when I make it
or when I hit it alone
like the voice in the back of your head
TV white noise
radio song stuck in your head
I'm a hard habit to kick
so keep kicking the game that your spitting out of your mouth like one too many shots
and I'll show you a me time

It was a lonely night
East grace street
Richmond's art district
on the border of Jackson's Ward
my side of the city
more bums than students
right by the transvestite bar
I met a fellow,
strange in appearance
and mannerisms
black dress shirt
black slacks
black shoes
black hair slicked over a waxy skull
'scuse me sir
ya gotta smoke
no man, I'm all out
all tapped out for cash
wanna strike a bargain
this roadside stranger
the hour was wee
cracked a cracked teeth smile
I knew I should deny
but still...
what're your terms
use your wrists
veins
fingers
mouth
mind
heart
promote me
tell the people I'm still sittin' here on the side of the road with a sign askin forra smoke
I nodded
vocabulary voraciously stolen by the non vox populi
he gave me a pack of filters
I lit up
eyes dancing, lost in the cherry's afterglow
and I felt it gone
empty
dangerous
erratic
I sold my soul that night
and I don't feel like looking for it

forty ounce of miller happiness
the champagne of suicide
cut it back
smoke a pack of camels
smoke another
buy another
only fifteen bucks,
**** it right?
7-11 buffalo chicken rollers
to soak up the chemotherapy
track marks from the lighter burns from the space needle injections
smoke a **** pack
then another
then another
and re-up on GB's until the room starts to carousel
now onto the ****** fratboy lime-a-rita's
**** the 12'er
then it's hard stuff
like george dickel, cracken, and Jameson
still able to count the toes on your feet through your shoes
then add another witches brew to the cauldron
go out armed with three good friends and a knife
pavement pavement pavement
ladies
strangers
strange women
conversation
the most addictive drug of them all
take the shotgun in the mouth
and feel everything pop black
wake up next to a faceless face
send her home
go to work
write a poem
do it all again

I see them walking down streets with names like
old buckingham
old gun road
westchester common street
robious
hugenaut
broad
grace frankling main cary
carry the weight of a group of ****** up **** ups
trying to "make a difference"
delusional *******
difference is made from killing a status quo
and their hands shake like childrens'
take a stake in the mental quake of the plasticity of the fake looking for mates
I'm tumbling down sure fall peak
free fall
until falling free is forgotten as a quest
childe roland to the dark tower came
yeah I went to college for a little bit there
broke out when I broke out of a sane frame of mind
swallow the sludge created by incontinent consumerists
snakes on trees make better friends than invisible fathers
but get these depressed lunatics out of my sight
feeling a fight bubbling up
complaints are for the complacent
so I don't see you
fear or hear no evil
evil makes good possible
using my vice versa as my vice
quoting bible quotes verbatim
I don't ft right
jigsaw piece chewed up by toddlers
jam me into place
and cover me in duct tape to silence the protests

Maybe I'm more than they think
But maybe I'm still less than what I ought to be
Potential going down the murky sink
But filling the street to where the people see
Here I stand a mirror of a man
A man who can be more than on par
Just because the crowd loves the band
Doesn't make you the biggest star

I keep thinking about
all the things I forgot.

Your phone number -
long deleted -
started with a 3.
Or was it a 6? Maybe 2.
The only thing I'm sure of
is it had seven digits
and made my heart race
when I saw it on my phone.

Your smell
and how it lingered
now escapes me.
It was unique and spicy.
Or was it sweet?
I keep thinking I've found it again
but end up second guessing myself.
If my eyes were closed
and you were standing
right in front of me,
I wouldn't even know.

Your smile
I can't quite picture.
I don't think you showed your teeth
unless you were really happy
or laughing.
But even in those cases,
I don't remember
what that looked like.
You probably had perfect teeth.

The dates
of all the events whose memories
used to stop my heart
are fading.
When I stop to think,
I can remember them,
but when those days pass
I'm always preoccupied
and forget to remember.

Your favorite color was black,
I'm sure.
I remember because
Your car was black.
Your hair was black.
The locked compartment of your heart
that I tried to open
for two long, painful years
was black.