i often think,
of empty grocery store aisles,
dusk in summer,
the home i grew up in,
tea leaves,
and sugar,
and cigarettes,
and you –
forever an anomaly,
a notion at best.

shall i search for home amid foaming waves,
and on the shore, whereon i sit to weep?
kisses ‘pon sailors’ cracked lips twixt their graves –            
porcelain dreams, aye, i’ll sing thee to sleep.

and i, warm wishes and an unknown name,
n’er-ceasing sighs ‘mongst mine own doleful face –
soft! thou would’st think i, ethereal dame,
would amount to more than moth-eaten lace.

pray romance blooms ‘tween chapters one and two;
for us each morrow t’will be but a dream.
even but now, i shall bid you adieu –
i go to seek life more than this doth seem.

ere wish i upon stars in evening sky;
perchance i’ll send for thee, midst last goodbye.

fog dense and still dripping,
silver buck moon,
and my cutting tongue,
spewing venom –

but it has no bite anymore.

falling out, into an empty bed,
i played the part of a devoted transient –
in all the artifacts,
“i was here.”

said it used to break his heart to see me cry,
but now he’s used to it.

“must be hard to end it when she’s so pretty.”