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  May 2014 Lame Poet
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
Lame Poet May 2014
It's laughable.
In the way that lets people know
you've maddened--
oh, you're a ripe, juicy
one now--
and also tells
them you learned the proper
definition of irony--
and the steam from your breath on
New Years' Eve
won't straighten out the wrinkles.
The laugh wrinkles on
your face are reflected as
frown lines in
your eyes.
It's laughable.
In the way that lets people know
absolutely nothing about why
you seem to have heard
something that made you
just split your sides with

Lame Poet Mar 2014
You left like a jumping fish.
If I had blinked,
I would have missed it
and seen only
your ripples
left behind.

I am a fish out of water--
Cliché, I know
(heartbreak is so overdone),
but gasping for
something Forever
Out of Reach.

She is a flying fish,
a fanciful gift
nature blessed
to glide through your life,
because you had water
and I, empty air,
and she could wing
beside you,
both of you leaving
your ripples behind.
Lame Poet Mar 2014
I pledge allegiance to the way
you stare off into the distance.
And to the headaches that you get
when your stress replaces your skull.
without ever a hesitation in my heart.

- LP
Lame Poet Mar 2014
I birthed
a faceless character
and my amniotic aura leaked out
spreading langloriously
across https
all over
the www.
My character
grew its skin
as a layer over mine
as thin as a tan
and as permanent as
true love
(whose permanence
s     t      r       e        t         c          h           e            s
to the size of your faith).

- LP
to be continued
Lame Poet Mar 2014
I want you to be my last words.
A quiet whisper in my mind--
or your name slipping from my lips
for the last time--
I wonder.
And I hope that I can pull it off,
that I could remember in a moment like that.
If you're around, I want to see you
and tell you I love you before I go
(I always say I love you before I go).
If you're not around, I'll just
whisper your name
to the air beneath my nose
one last time.
And if I can't speak,
I'll conjure up your essence
inside me.
My last words,
My eternity.

Lame Poet Jan 2014
If you are listening, close your eyes.
Don't think too hard.
Think of,
Hold in your mind,
the following sensations:

a soft humming.
Imagine this soft humming.
Imagine the voice.
Imagine the tone.
Imagine a drone,
Imagine a melody,
a pleasant hum.

a soft humming.
Think of this soft humming.
Think of the lips.
Think of the purse.
Think of a source,
Think of a vibration,
a pleasant hum.

a soft humming.
Hold in your mind, this soft humming.
Hold in your mind, the texture.
Hold in your mind, the ambience.
Hold in your mind, a feeling of being swaddled,
Hold in your mind, a feeling of expansiveness,
a pleasant hum.

If you are listening, open your eyes.
Don't think too hard.

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