She told me
To come over
And on her
Never saw her
Like that before
Changed before my
Eyes sinking high
Looking for the sky
All I saw
Was darkness fading
In and out
As I went
Forth and back
Near had a
******* heart attack
When the door
Opened a little more
But it was
Only her dog

Every night,
I lay my head down on my pillow.
And I think of every good moment I've ever had with you.
Like the time you drove me home and I asked why you didn't kiss me.
You scratched your head and said, "Do you want me to?"
I said of course, but you didn't.
The time during the fall when you let me drive your car. You kept your hand close to my leg, just in case. You told me pointers. You kept smiling at me with those big brown eyes.
The first time I seen you after our first big fight.
You ran your fingers through my hair and for the first time, admitted that you missed me.
When I crawled over the console and laid on you.
You spoke softly, "I don't know how you make this comfortable, but you do."
That same night, was the first time you kissed me in public.
You smiled and rubbed your nose on mine.
The night when I rubbed your back for hours, while we got to know each other.
The way I used to watch your eyes as they followed the road when we walked down it. Or the way your hands tensed up when we drove around curves.
The lines that appear around your mouth every time you smile.
My favorite night was when you woke me up from a nightmare and said , "I'm here. I didn't leave." And held me.
The same morning, I woke up. The first time you'd seen me without make up and my hair a mess.
You said,
"Good morning, beautiful."
I smiled and hugged you.

Your memories are my favorite.

so you're sitting on a bed
it's not yours,
because the wallpaper around you is yellow and stained

you checked into the hotel at three in the morning
with a pretty boy and the promise of something that night

the sheets are crumpled around you
a pillow on the floor
and he's sleeping next to you
looking five years younger and
his hair is crumpled in a halo around his head
you're not lying to yourself
you know that you picked him up off the street after handing him two crumpled twenty dollar bills
he's here for the money
and you,
well,
you don't know why you're here

lying back against the yellow pillows and breathing deeply
hands resting on a sweat-stained stomach
and when you look over
his blonde hair is moving with each breath
mouth agape and
a light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks
and while the sound of night and car horns permeates the room
the illusion that all is silent and still
and that the world is waiting for you outside this bubble of *** and safety
exists only in this dark room that stinks of sweat
and sounds like the shallow breathing of two miserable men

the low buzzing of the radiator and the strip of light from the underside of the fridge are the only illuminators in the room

his breaths lull you to sleep and when you wake up
it's only you in the bed with the afternoon shadows looming over you with a sudden finality

you don't see him again on the streets of new york,
or in the dark, grungy alleyways of the underside of humanity
and you can only hope
though why you bother with this teenage boy adorned with freckles and blue eyes
well
you don't know

a blue woman with sticking out ******* hanging
clothes.  On the line. not so old
for the mother of twelve undershirts(we are told
by is it Bishop Taylor who needs hanging

that marriage is a sure cure for *******).

                          A ***** wind,twitches the,clothes which are clean
—this is twilight,
                          a little puppy hopping between
skipping
              children
                            (It is the consummation
of day,the hour)she says to me you big fool
she says i says to her i says Sally
i says
          the


                  mmmoon,begins to,drool

softly,in the hot alley,

a ******’s voice feels curiously cool
(suddenly-Lights go!on,by schedule

sometimes its the affection
that matters
more than the
love,
y'know?

affection is something we all
crave
humans need affection
to live,
maybe the reason we stay
with the ones who hurt us most,
is because in times of darkness
they show us
affection.

m.g.

I had a really good poetry line
but it got lost between the illegal substances.
I hope someone else can find it.
Cuz all I can believe is the music from Madden.
These fake orchestral pieces or are they real.
I'm also smoking a cheap box vaporizer after drinking two steel reserve 40's and those are 8 percent alcohol.
It's at 420 degrees and that's cool.
Def not a plebian.
Possibly lesbian but mom says that's really really good.