i only have
a few words
for your crap,
and i say this politely:
*******...
please.
grow *****,
then we'll talk.

for j.h.
*060215

I have not grown accustomed
to the sound of your messages.
Their presence did little to assure,
nor did their absence cause unsettling.
Today, however,
I must admit
that I have waited for that bell.
My heart salivated
at the sound of passing bicycles,
hoping finally it was you
remembering the love
you have left waiting.
I wonder:
How could you have conditioned me
to anticipate something
that has never been constant anyway?

for j.e.
*013115

your pain
wraps itself
around my heart,
a noose
surprisingly tight
for one
of letting go.

it whispers
against my ears
of tears overflowing,
drowning
what is bottled up
inside.

i empty
your words
into my palms,
allowing each memory
to filter through
my fingers,
every metaphor
to cut through,
each sick longing
to permeate.

i must admit
that i have no use
for your heartbreak,
for i have enough
of my own
to last me
through the night,
but i soak myself through
nonetheless,
allowing
what is taken
from your heart
to find its way
through mine.

each poem
leaves a ****
i dare not
stare at
for too long.
it is enough
that i feel.
it would have been
too much
if i should see,
if i should revel
at what is
unacceptable
even before your eyes.

so tonight,
let me be blind
but feeling,
sensitive
to every throbbing
wound
you've nursed,
to every cry
you've muffled.
tonight, i mourn
with you
the loss
of a love
not worth having.

i weep with you,
love,
not because
i, too, have experienced
your defeat,
but because i, too,
have loved you,
and like
everything else
that rots,
we, too,
shall find
our resurrection
in the decay.
one day soon,
we’ll find
our salvation
in surrender.


for k.c.
*053015