I love your goofy smile
and the way your eyes hide behind your glasses when you're tired.

I love the deep rasp in your voice
and the small hairs that you let grow on the bottom of your chin.

I love your big belly laugh
and the way you talk about music like it saved your soul.  

I love the way you hold me in your muscled arms to say hello
like you never wanna let me go.

I love the way you look at me
like I'm the only other person in the room with you.

I hate that you pretend to have it together
when I know that you're just putting on some fake persona.

I hate the desperation and pain behind your green-checked eyes
and that only I can see that they are calling out for help.

I hate when it's mentioned
that you can get your fair share of girls without even trying.

I hate that I feel guilt
because you're the first and only I've noticed since I feel in love with him.

I hate that I don't know
if a fire started when we met for you like it did for me.

Working under a cloud of sadness
Cleaning a mother’s home
After their death.
All the familiar objects
Are so much heavier
Loaded with emotion
Triggered by every trinket touched.
And the unfamiliar
Items never seen before
Not really secret
But secretive
Shed an unfamiliar light
Or a tragic one
On the lost life.

Add some desire you had
For resolution
Or proof of affection
A letter un-mailed, explaining…
Everything, less,
Or adding further mysteries.
Photos signed with a revealing scrawl
In a curious masculine hand.
And flowing in your mind
As you reduce a life to a list
For disposal, dispersal
A certainty
A knowing
That what you see is not the whole
The whole life


There’s something missing
That might explain
Her wistful expression
Her unexpressed longing,
The aura of regret,
You recall it easily.
A perfume of disappointment
Lingering.

And when you finally
Discover her dark journals
Her writing, but reflecting a stranger
A talent, a power, a presence
Never revealed, never known
But rich and sharp
With bright witty language
You understand this is a set of wings
Dusty with neglect
Heavy with melancholia
Unused wings.

I like to.....

to drink a cup of coffee
to listen to mellow tracks
to sit beside the window
to stare into oblivion

as I think of you,
as I watch my teardrops fall down from the sky,
as I watch them turn into floods of emotion
as I feel the cold breeze remind me your touch
as I taste coffee turn into blood
as I listen to mellow tracks become as enraged as myself
as I sit beside the window with the rain pouring on me
as I stare into nothing    


...as I think of you
    in hopes that you're thinking of me too  

these are the things I crave for on rainy days
but what I crave for the most is you