I still remember the taste of
orange fanta, sticky and sweet
on your lips.
It’s as nostalgic, as it is painful,
remembering you.
I swallow a bit easier, with each
coming sip.

I don’t belong here.
I go through the motions —the day to day— left unfulfilled.
I know I am meant for something more, something exquisite.
I don’t belong here.

I laid with you until time carried
me away and then again, as I dreamt.
But, when I awoke, alone and no
longer in your arms, I cursed the universe
for not letting me stay with you a little longer.

The shadow man came in the dead of night
Slithered into my bed, curled against me, tight
I bid him speak, yet he said not a word
No face could be seen, but his breath could be heard

I felt his smile, pressed to my back
his wicked grin curling through the black
I could not turn ‘round scared to look on his eyes
that he’d end me if ever his foul gaze met mine

When the shadow man left, he rolled out’ my bed
dragging his feet on the carpet, like one of the dead
his nails scratched the sheets and scored the door-facing
I held my breath, til’ certain he’d gone, my heart racing.

You asked me if I’d ever been to honey
creek. And when
I shook my head,      you
                           took my hand and led
                                                        me into the tall trees.

The river was
frozen over and moss
                                    hung like beards on
   the bare branches.
You said to close my eyes and breathe in
                            the world around me.
The nature, the beauty
                                      and the quiet of the forest.
It quickly became my favorite place, not because of
     what I saw there, but because of
                                                   what I couldn’t see.

I am so very sorry for  how sweet I must taste that you’d accidentally
let my name roll off your tongue, whilst savoring her.

Except, that I'm not.

Sneak out, sneak in
let me join you
when your nightride
begins.

Breathe out, breathe in
pull me closer
take me places I’ve
never been.

Precious metals lifted up
from their watery graves
in the depths below.
Scrawled on their
backsides, 71026010.
Stacked, stored, arranged
in Venice.
The shipwrecked collection tells
a story of a slave who escaped
with eclectic artifacts, only
to be buried with
them beneath the sea.
It was all invented, orchestrated,
a fraud.

Unbelievable.

Flames burn
skies turn
souls yearn

sweet pain
one reign
twin flames

If the big bang created everything we now know,
if the sun brings us life,
if the moon, turns the tide,
how can we not be moved by the stars?
We’re practically stardust, ourselves.

I just want to smoke my cigarettes and drink my coffee, alone.

I know they won’t last, nothing does, cigarettes burn, coffee cools, but while we’re hot just let us be together, alone.

cry me a river
build a bridge
and get over it

he said,

but if only he knew how many
oceans I’d cried for him and
how many bridges I’d burned
trying to get over us

I never asked you for your body count and to be frank, I honestly don’t care.
The number of lovers we shared our beds with is irrelevant, so why do you waste your precious air?

Repetition everywhere
in bookshelves and tiled walls
and the yellow striped down the street.
Repetition everywhere
in staircases and stitches
and cornstalks.
Repetition everywhere
in tree-rings and theater seats
and blinds and whitened teeth,

Repetition everywhere.

You weren't made for the sun or moon
or from the earth, wind, or fire.
You were the kind that ran with the wild horses
and floated where the river carried you.
You were the sort of soul that not only
enjoyed the rain but danced in it like it was more
than water falling to the ground, like it was a ritual
and only you could thank the clouds for every drop.
You were the kind of soul that believed in vivid
dreams and the absence of shoes,
because bare feet helped you stay grounded.
You were as free as water.
How could you let yourself dry up?

There is some kind of soft magic
in the way your hands glide
across my skin, half knowing,
and half discovering,
deciphering,
decoding all that I am.
The way you go straight to the heart
of the matter, yet in doing so,
you're perpetually awed both by
your new findings and by the
remnants of stardust you left
behind, last time.

He was, still is, and always will be
my sweetest dream,
my beautiful nightmare,
my lovely monster.
He’s the recurring, fire in my bones
and the only thing that could
extinguish the flames.
He’s the thoughts that keep me
awake at night and the very
first thing that comes to mind
each morning.

beneath a blanket of stars
thicker than salt in the sea,
I sat and sat and sat watching,
stargazing and telling you
all my secrets and all my dreams
you took my face in your hands
and looked me in the eyes and said
by all means, “go, do, be.
“just so long as you change you to we.”

You have a gravity about
you that I have not yet
become accustomed to.
I feel I will never become
accustomed to it, to you
or to the way you push
me in and pull me out,
the way your gravity
keeps me orbiting, just
within reach.

I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.
I know happiness is never far, when you are near.

You were an angel
but feathers fall like bowling *****
when the air is missing from the room,
from your lungs.
You gasped when I called you out, a
baffled sound, surprised more so, only by
the startling sensation of your wings being torn off.
Though, that warranted bloodcurdling screams,
and rightfully received them.
You had us all fooled with silken lies,
but Caroline Janeway saw you in the back of Al’s
Pool Hall in Roseville, Minnesota, back in 1994.  
And last I checked, heaven wasn’t in the back of Al’s Pool Hall.
She said that you were glued to the lips of some chick in a miniskirt,
that you looked like you’d had one hell of a time.
That’s when I put it all together: you weren’t an angel, you never were.
You’ve always been good at bending the truth, though.
Here I was thinking that you’d fallen from heaven,
but really, I’d just fallen for you.
Solitary walks through silent city streets seem to clear the air for me.
You needed to become a part of my past, but how
do I fix the damage that’s been done?
You had a broken halo and I, a broken heart.
I never knew you could be so savage.
The glittering look of endearment in your eyes was
lust and nothing more. I saw so much more.
You, Cupid, loose an arrow; though it sticks I can
no more than despise you, now.
I pluck it from my side, warm, sticky blood
running down in streams.
Janie would have fainted at such a sight.  
I’d stand frozen, watching it all unfold before me.
Your bloodied, pristine, feathers litter the ground.
There I stood, trapped by a web of lies.
Yet, la mia anima è libera, my soul is free.
I feel more weightless, now, than any feather ever could.
Though, I suspect that they feel freed from you as well.
You were never an angel but you fell from grace.
I hand you the arrow, dried blood covering the silver tip.

I never expected there to come so
much work with a breakup, but now, I
have all these things to dispose of
and all these memories to forget about.
I must patch the hole in my heart.
I must fix the calendar where it
says September 12th and I must figure
out something to do that day since there
is no anniversary without
you.

The heat the summer sun brought
to your skin makes me so jealous,
for she touched you and you
welcomed it willingly before me.
She left her mark and it’s all I can do
to keep from screaming- I wish I could
touch you, myself, but I am left standing
in the shade, watching your sunburns
come and go.

Darling, toss your                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                    hands into the sky
and let down the stars,
for the sting in
your bones may
always  be there
but wasps never
fly at
night.

Waller around in this pile of dust you’ve
been licking up.
Drilling deeper down into the dirt with a
forked, reptilian tongue.
Twisting coils of leathery skin ‘neath scales
of golden sun.
Swallow your tail, only to realize it’s how you’ll be undone.

Another sits near, watching you writhe,
the dirt dragging you down, out of sight.
She admires your determination, but you’d
call it fear, with your final breath to the light.

Pour yourself into the hole that opened
beneath you, a grave you carved out with your
scales, like shovels, your armor
broken now, you plummet down
spine emerging like soft palms reaching out
to catch you as you flail.

There is some kind of
soft magic in the way
striking the same key over
and over again, hearing the
same note over and over
again can bring a chill to
my skin and tears to my eyes.
Even if you only played that
key for the rest of your life,
know, that it has moved me so,
and that I will forever be inspired,
imagining what the rest of your
lovely tune could possibly be.

You asked if he was my other half.

I said “no,” and your face lit up like it never had before, and it fell when I said I’m not a half.

How could you ask me to sculpt for you a
poem out of pure stardust
only to turn your ear to the soft
humming of another?
I poured my heart out on the page for you and
you crumbled it up and tossed it off the bridge.
I just want to know, why?

Flowers do not cower and close up their petals when someone does not like them.

Flowers do not exist to please others, but instead their singular job is to make this planet a better place for everyone.

We invent excuses, complications for love
and romance, but the simplest truth is,
even though it is so, when you know, you know.
So many days are spent in the act of weaving webs and
tossing ourselves from one muse to another,
from one obsession to another from one infatuation
to another and getting stuck.
This just comes with it.
But the most exquisite truth of all is that when you
stumble upon someone who steals softly the breath from your lungs
by their existence alone, someone who takes you to another universe,
another eternity all its own, where you can do no more than sit
doe-eyed and serene, pouring over their every perfection and
imperfection, all the same, all in love,
you never return from it.
You have no choice.

I’ve lost track of the weeks,
started
losing motivation,
losing momentum.

Or rather gaining momentum?

Moving like a snowball, rolling downhill,
all control lost, spiraling.
No doubt, collision, just around the corner,
waiting betting on my failure.
I’m not frozen yet- and when the snow melts,
I’ll either sink or swim.

Hot on my lips
the amber liquid flows
even with milk and
honey, it could never
be as sweet as you.

A cool September day we met, with the rustling of the wind, and the sound of closing car doors.

Now my heart’s desire is to know you more, to be found in you, and to be known as  yours.

I lost your necklace
the one you gave me
dropped into my palm
even before we were dating

I lost your necklace
somehow left it behind
on the hospital bed after
my E.R. visit late last night

I lost your necklace
it probably didn’t cost much
but to me, it meant the most,
‘cause when you’re not around,
it reminded me of your love

I lost your necklace
and only just now did I realize
that I lost your necklace
and since this discovery,
I’ve cried, and cried, and cried

I know I don’t need a necklace
to know that I am loved
but I wish that I still had it
because when I held it,
it’s only you
I’d think of

Velvety soft and rich in color
they shiver ever so slightly
at your touch, they’ve unrolled
themselves for you
just look, won’t you?
there’s no need in
destroying their soft beauty.

This isn’t just a wildfire, springing up with heat when the right wind catches it.
No, this is an ember, slow and smoldering.
I’m not angry with you, I’m hurt.
I’m not plotting my revenge,
I’m planning my escape.

My shoulders measure no more
than a foot across, left to right.
Your hands wrap around my wrists,
your fingers curling 'round with
length to spare.
You stand a whole head taller
than me, with an ego to match,
and a superiority complex,
if I've ever seen one.
But being smaller than you
doesn't make me anything less.
Being smaller, doesn't  make me
incapable, inferior, or insignificant.

I just take up less space.

You, however have proven
your worth time
and time again with every
remark you make
that belittles someone else
and it's all I can to
keep from saying how much
of a waste of space you are.

I love the thought of being the
             first
                    in
                       your
                            thoughts.
I truly admire the idea of being the
               pioneer
                      in
                       your  
                            mind.
And if I am not the pioneer in your mind, then surely, I am the pioneer in your heart!
I know this to be true by the way you look at me with your twisting, dark eyes.
The light that rests there is the light I put there.
And I will
                 cherish
                           that
                                 first
                                       forever.

Waves I
I can only compare her to
waves, because even when
I try to pull away, she pulls
me in again and again.
I again, I am left with
the feeling of shakiness
upon solid ground.

Waves II
I can only compare him to
waves, because no matter how
many times, I push him away,
he always pulls me back in.
Again, and again, I am welcomed
back into his sun-warmed waters,
despite my feelings of shakiness
upon solid ground.

For hours we have driven
down dusty, dirt roads passing
one after another, the rotting animals,
flattened to the pavement.
I count them, one, three, seven, ten.
It’s a means of passing time and
getting you off my mind, momentarily.

You sit in the passenger seat with the
map flattened against the dash and
your navy ball cap pulled low.
The roadkill becomes sidelined when
I realize, the dead animals are not the
ones running from something,
running from another greater animal,
a predator, only to meet death on this
decrepit highway.
I am the one running, driving seventy-five
miles an hour from a predator I cannot
escape no matter how fast I drive.
I am the prey.

The scenes outside the window no longer
tell a tale of death, but one of freedom,
freedom from the hunt, the chase.
You’ve mentioned before what you feel
for me, and though, we’ve known each
other for years, anything more than
friends would surely ruin us.
This little trip we took for summer
fun leads nowhere good, leads to a place
from which I doubt we will return the same
as we left.
I know once we reach our destination,
you’ll go in for the ****
and I won’t stop you.

He means to say, “I love you,”
but leaves it at “Goodnight,”
because to love involves falling,
and she’s afraid of heights.

Magnolia, delicate, debonair,
and dressed in shades of pink, white, and green.
Like a blushing bride, so fragrant, fair
and fragile, a very feminine queen.
You’re timeless and beautiful beyond words.
Others stand in awe, yet you do not see.
To think that you don’t know would be absurd
surely, you are aware of your own beauty
Let me tell you, Magnolia, one truth:
one day, you will grow out of that allure,
your petals will fall, and you’ll lose your youth.
A love for yourself, now, should be procured
For once it is gone, it will not return.
What once was should not be a flower’s concern.

I’ve known you for years,
never known you in person,
but I’ve known you.
Despite the fact that I am
madly in love with another,
despite that he very well could
be my soulmate,
despite how incredibly happy he
makes me,
I can’t help but smile when
I think of you.

Everything I want already exists.

I will be happy when I wake tomorrow with the rising sun.

Nothing in this world could satisfy my desires, because I’ve already got you, and I desire nothing more.

Black coffee, beer
—two things that are
absolutely disgusting
and I won’t pretend
they taste good.

What’s more?
I won’t pretend you
taste good, either.

I want ropes, not roses,

I want teeth marks, bruises, not black eyes,

I want lipstick smears, not tear streaks,

I want passion, love, fire

but

I don’t want to get burned.

Laying beside you is my greatest fear
and my greatest dream,
for both you and I can hear
the rise and fall of my chest,
fighting to keep my breath
in tandem with yours, I could almost scream.

You hold me so close, the air between us
heats up, like a lovely inferno.
I’m pained, being kept from turning
over and over in your burning
grasp, but to be without it would pain me more so.

I take back everything I ever said about the things I would and wouldn’t be caught dead doing.

I could never ever have known the person I’d grow up to be.

It used to be that the things that kept me in my comfort zone were
boring, but now, they bring me solace, and those that remain outstanding, somehow bring me the most joy.

I dance a very intricate dance between two worlds, struggling to find my place somewhere in the middle.

Somehow, I find myself teetering over one edge or the other, never truly at peace and never truly bothered enough to give this life up.

You’ve got this aura, this soft magic about you that keeps me in orbit.
I couldn’t walk away even if I wanted to.

This world is so incredible, but it pales in comparison to you, my love.

I am head-over-heels, madly in love with you, and I long to be so sinfully close to you that even air could not come between us.

That being said, I’ve come to believe that the most beautiful thing in the world is not love, nor is it the act of making love, but rather, the act of falling asleep beside you, that I’d leave myself open to you all night long, dreaming in my most vulnerable state.

That is the most exquisite beauty of all.