I can smell the sweat that clings to my cotton death.
they have already left for home.

shovel on another layer of debt and debris on top of my swollen body.
the coffee kept me alive to dig out of my grave, and here I am.
 
I can smell the air that ran through our lungs when we were children.

an hour behind,
and the funeral service isn't ending,
pick up the black masks,
as we march out of here in tens.
this body is not dead.
this body is not dead.

we watched the sunset reflected in the marble of the tombstones,
let's dig him up,  let's get him clean
he walks among the living again

and I left my tears at the gate of the cemetery, these years climb off my back like weights we never knew we carried for so long.

through years and windowpanes that gather dust, mattresses given up for caskets, intravenous memories that leaked onto the floor

I smell the sweat that clings to my cotton death.
I am going to take it home.

the fire burned out and I followed you down.
I said "I don't think I'm right in the head."
and you smiled, I cringed, because I couldn't smile back.
the stars looked no different than the nights I spent alone.
but you hold me close, and squeeze my hand.
I would let you make all of my decisions for me,
and I will sleep here with you in the cold.

when the sun comes up, will I begin to see my future?
the years fly over the the treeline, just like birds.
the summer is leaving us, the leaves will fall.
I'll hold your hand and wish I hadn't,
and when I go quiet, if you loved me, you'll know what I won't say.
we finish our beers, toss the cans beneath the pine trees.

I dip my feet into the pool,
and the final drag of my cigarette says "you know what you're feeling."

the snow sticks to the one last pair of jeans you own,
stayed up to watch the sun come up again.

green tea isn't going to save you from the day's advances,
the hours pass like soldiers marching on in sickening waves.
every minute ticking off and disposing another wasted emotion,
I wore my sleeves down to drown me for the first time this year.

and the coffee is to blame,
for the sweat that gathers on the small of my back
sitting here and waiting just a little while longer.

and looking at my smile,
do you see how bad I am at faking it?
we had better make the coffee stronger.

4/1/13

that burning behind my eyes
and the sound of your laugh
that just rubs me the wrong way
I don't need to tell you anymore
I don't want to see your face

honey, you can slam the door any way you want, 
as long as you turn the lights off behind you,
and keep quiet.
we just have to get through this

so I send the smell of tobacco smoke across the room as an offensive weapon, you retaliate in kind. 
 
our alarms go off in the morning, and we both try to out sleep each other,  but I have work, I have cigarette cravings, I have nightmares.

I have three weeks until I am rid of you.

you sat right down and asked me,
don't you ever forget.
it was you that came by,
asking me for my forgiveness.

we were caught scrolling through our lifetimes,  but you caught me up in this.
couldn't the sunlight be enough for you?
why'd you have to save me with your smile?

don't act like this didn't happen sweetie,  
you'll never forget.
I've been singing along to love songs,
since before we first met.

I have dried my eyes and dyed my hair,
I have drank the wine and done it best.

you sat right down and asked me,
don't you ever forget.
it was you that came by,
asking me for my forgiveness.