If you were to die tomorrow.
I swear to give you half my life.
So, if you were to die again.
Your story will end after mine.

You made to shine

In muddy waters, rusted wires,

muted hues of two tone sweaters, tangled hair and sleep filled eyes,

were once the chains of this steadfast child,

             starving.

My wings are broken.
I can't fly anymore.
The passion that grew my feathers
Is the poison that is killing me.
Loving and hoping...
But killing me nonetheless.
Too far to turn back.
Close enough to see the end.
I want to fly again.

I spit in your fire
and it hungers my heat,
It boils
    and rages
      to my sugar beet.

Smothered to a flicker
when you curl
at a flame;
but fires won't light
when I'm whispering your name.

The bench is three paces
From the bike rack
Twelve feet
To the light pole
A million miles from
Where I want to be
And eleven minutes
Closer to you.

He's circling around
The L-shaped
Concrete garden
And she's singing where
The sidewalk
Meets the asphalt
While I'm somewhere
In between them.

If this campus were
A battleground
Every one of us
Would be losing
And the shuttle bus
Would only serve to
Carry away our
Stone cold bodies.

We're all waiting
At some earthy spring
Bus stop
For the same ride
A bittersweet
Kiss of death.

Now I see a car
Coming up the hill
And I get to my feet
After all
I shouldn't keep the
Hearse waiting.