How many times can
we write about heartbreak
& how many words does it take
to describe anguish,
the end of the world
as we now it?

How many stanzas
can be made to talk about hate
& how many verses
can be written to alleviate
the terse nature
of a crushed spirit?

O pray tell, tell me ******!

I tried to smudge your name out of the
playbill of my life, but I couldn't. Somehow,
I'd convinced everyone around me, and even myself,
at some points, that you were nothing but a mere what-if

in my life of absolutes, and I didn't miss you.
Of course, day in and day out, words and lines for unwritten poems
would submerge my thoughts deep in murky, unfiltered tubs of
darkness, and I'd find myself haunted by your existence.

I tried to get over you, but I'm a poet, and the fact
of the matter is that poets don't get over much of anything. So
I'm sorry for this facade that I've so grudgingly constructed,
but I've never been too good at saying goodbye...

..or sorry, for that matter.

i think of the people who have no homes
they sleep to shiver alone
pretentiously i am just like them
for your arms are home
i am not home
(n.n.)

I fell into my dreams
landing on top of you

there are people and things
that take the pain away.

who tell you you're pretty
and kiss your lips until you believe.

who don't keep quiet when they see
your treasure map wrists.

who talk until 2 in the morning
when you need a distraction.

but even the most beautiful
stories have a last page,

and the ones who fixed the pain
become the ones who cause it.

She moved me beyond words,
took me on wild rides
that made
the carnival look lame.

Her frame fit me like a glove,
I was held spellbound
in her arms,
feasted on her body,
was titillated by her mind,
I was truly in love with her.

Sadly. I never realized
how much I missed smoking,
two packs a day she did,
it was in her hair
& in her clothes
& only the Lord knows
how much I miss her badly.