I always tell myself
That being sad is stupid
And to live in the present and smile
And hide the feelings inside

But it feels good to feel sad
It feels pure to recognize raw
Feels right to feel wrong
And that’s the scary part

Because I want to believe I want to be happy
Yet again and again I drag myself down
Into the depths of my own mind
Just to wallow some more
Just because I can

Because I love it
Because I want to feel the tears roll and the
Cuts hurt
I want to feel the beating in my chest pound
Thump thump thump
Its telling me
I’m still alive

The only thing I can do
is take one step away
from my past
and turn the corner
of a completely disguised
pathway.

A pathway, not a tunnel;
not a tunnel that
confines you in a circular hole;
not a tunnel that runs
under a river, smothering you
from view--
but an open pathway
in the gleaming sun.
A trail that allows the
warm light to burn your shoulders.

A straight shot to pain,
to discovery, to light.
A mesmerizing array of experience,
leading to a bottomless pool
of endless love.

Take the first step.

Does he notice when we meet eyes
In the hallway
In passing
But nonetheless: eye contact

Does it do to him what it does to me?
Send me back in time
to how things used to be

Does he remember all we used to say?
The way we felt
Holding hands in a crowd
United in his shed—
Simple in our time together

Does he reminisce and ponder
all that could have been different
between us, not this
rotten separation

I wonder what he thinks when he sees me.
Does it make him feel at all?

lick your lips before you sleep
and hope they stay soft
within your dream
so when you wake to my kiss,
lively
your lips will seem

simply
we leave with no more
than what we started with;
alone at last again--
a soul floating among
the stars, after death and
before birth in some weary in between--
we exit like our entrance,
lose some of our senses and
once again reduced to
uncontrollable bladder action--
the same molecules as
the follicles of our baby bottom skin.

one person, one death,  
and who is to say what's left behind?
for the only thing that matters in life
is what's inside your mind--
the only thing or other
living being
with you at all times
is you,
and so you are lost at the grave
after spending one lifetime
blossoming from birth;
return to earth
mortal, naked, bare

I need to just look at the little things
like the pattern of the clouds
in the sky, the way they look like
skid marks on wet sand,
just licked by the salty lips
of the vast ocean--
and yet you redefined my
whole perspective,
especially on the little things--
The small curve of your smile
and the sweet twinkle in your eye
became my everyday suffice,
and every simple movement
you'd make would knock me
off balance,
tumbling into the abyss:
the emptiness that comes when
someone who was your whole world
decides not to provide you
with the little things
you so desperately need
to survive

The creepy Italian guy
stares at us under his
bushy, too close together eyebrows
and he yells at us when we get free refills,
“You are costing me a fortune!”
but we don’t care what he says
because the soda machine
is right there
waiting for us to click in our cup
and nourish ourselves on the sweet,
high fructose corn syrup of youth

and the astonishment when the
two plates of fries comes,
one golden one curly—
and our napkin of ketchup wedged between—
two different types of potatoes
for two very different types of people

and yet, best of friends.
Connected companions at heart,
drilled in by the constant company
in childhood.
and yet, beautiful,
because without my best friend
no aspect of life could be the same

infinite time we have to spend
sauntering around in our woods,
our home:
the log cabin stretch of mount laurel
the not-so-busy shopping center
holding the Pizza King
where we would sit in a booth
long after our food was gone;
for in youth, there are
infinite things to say

and we are both now almost fully grown,
you have your high school diploma
and you will be off in the fall
for the big city,
and I’ll be stuck in a small town
full of small minded people,
feeling small while you
make a name for yourself
in the big “real” world

but no matter where we both go
we will look back
and remember all the times
we shared together—
good and bad,
family and friends,
home cooked meals and
long stays in the little pizza place
across the street
from our youth