november
his words came out like a lemming of
forceful regrets
and my phrases were hell bent on the
destruction of themselves
*it's decemeber now
you've only been gone for a month
and i can move furniture around as
much as i'd like, and you'd still
bounce off the cushions
if the Everything of cigarette smoke
and cheap cologne speak
as loudly as temptation
as brightly as your abdomen, stretched
like the bonds of linen across rooftops
that shade these lonely streets
then i will seek the promises you
left behind
and a late night motel
*to bore me in your absence
(he promised me a night in a motel)