dust calls my heart home
although I’ve
never been in that expanse
I am now
trapped in the titles of this city
feeling the need to get away
into the sun and dirt
where you are as unknown as the
icy fingers of a winter breeze
in that place
I hope to find a part of myself
always known missing
I’ll never understand
a place I've never been
calls me home

Four walls crush
barely recognizing the reflection that stares
longing for the fat a cushy existence has brought
to burn with the binding responsibilities
another morning brings
Freedom
is hunting with the wolves
no place to call home
open air, open eyes
open life
with only your bones and wit as companions
new faces, new place
no cage around what should be free
will
guilt would linger at first
then a home would be made in the ***** blanket
that is loneliness
fleeting moments with strangers a staple in this life
I will create
like many do when it all becomes too much
and you become reckless abandon

Swept up leaves in the wind
weightless and unruly against their own wishes
now explode with beauty only to
dull and decay like the
fading hearts who turned with the seasons
yearning for the lightness once felt
when all was in bloom as they
wait in the windows for
life again

My Adonis
In a metal T-shirt
His curls, his smile
The lights and sweat
A quick word spoken
But an everlasting vision left
Of who I imagined he could be

In my mind I lived a life by his side
My fingertips on the nape of his neck
Feeling his lips against my skin
Waking up wrapped in his arms
In that shirt
All in the matter of a moment
And a fleeting one at that

So I will keep this perfect stranger
In a place I hope he never fades
For it would be a tragedy to ever forget that face

If he shall fall from my arms
Like the leaves of a tree
And blow with the wind
Under another’s shade
I will be left in the open
Wondering if the season
Of loneliness has come again
As it always has when
The winters are cold

Come spring I feel
I will not
Have the strength to bud again

Is it happening again
You're right on time
This ache is a calling card and the
Silence that grows with it follows
One side stepping the other in a
Waltz we know too well
Please speak before there's no room left
and we become lousy artwork
on opposing walls
Your pattern is a clouded mirror and
I need to know if there will be something
to celebrate or if my pressed lips will be against the bottle at midnight

Rash decisions
made a monster of you
now
standing consumed
by regret
in ruins of the things
you
turned your back on
when deciding
what you thought was best
and realizing
too late that
getting what you wanted
wasn't what it
was supposed to be
now
left alone to
pick up the pieces
you didn't appreciate
what you had
sadly, they rarely do

The city sings it's siren song
Gunmetal and lonesome blue
Glittering lights beckon the step
But the glass between my life and the streets gives courage to my coward soul on the 22nd floor
Cheap champagne as a last meal
A cigarette would be nice
but this is a non smoking room
A moment in time passes
With a decision made in haste
My last words
Written on the asphalt with my body as the ink

I'm a nutjob waiting to be cracked
by someone with the decency and will
to put me out of my misery
my floors are ***** and though it
drives me crazy
instead of sweeping I
just stare at the piles of **** and
steam blows from my ears
I'm like that in the way where fixable
things get my blood boiling yet I
won't be the one to get it done
what's the point
another pair of shoes will drag in
more dirt tomorrow
I say I'll sweep then
It'd be more realistic to say
I'll just stare

I’m not sure I believe
that one day the void will close,
the glass will be filled
and all will smell of roses
with the sky lightened by
another new morning

better to have loved and lost,
easier said than done,
adrift in the tide with our
memories washing against me

The inevitability of the kiss
of sea and sand
seems less romantic
and more a nuisance
now an endless cycle all too familiar

never entering my mind that
the day would come
when I’d be drained of all hope
for the rekindling of what was

and god, we really were something

morning breaks through
more dreams of the same
and I whisper to you another night terror

the room is too cold you breathe
and pull me closer to your warmth
into the sunlight

dreams of horror
when your touch is so near

perhaps in life when you have everything
sadness is always a dream away
waiting to be felt

let them watch as she dances
their desperation hanging
like the smoke from their cigarettes

a sea of bloated bellies
and empty glasses
cast hungry glances from high
up on their bar stools

she will dance
and they will wish
they still had a spark that
could catch her attention
longing for a night
taken from the pages of their
glory days

let them watch

in hopes that a piece of her spirit
will twirl off her skirt
for them to capture
and put on a shelf
along with what they once
had been

just another thursday night
at the tragic tavern

Left alone with my chardonnay and nicotine,
He walks out the door with a smile on his face and a pep in his step
And I slide down into the cushions and swish the sweet nectar over my tongue and teeth.
He’ll be back, my cigarette is almost to the filter and I flick the stick at the eye sore on my bookcase.
Flitting around town he’s getting his fill on Jack and Jim, making twilight friends out of strangers.
I listen to the floors creak and the couple below me start to scream at each other.
Early summer’s heat is taking its toll. Time will pass as it always does.
I light another cigarette and the hours drone on. A knock on the door snaps me out of my melancholy.
Familiar pools of green are looking at me from the door way. He wasn't gone long.
Dark patterns have formed on his shirt and he wears a crown of sweat.
He handed me a bottle and the chill sent lightning through my fingertips.
The quarrelers below have exchanged their harsh words for lustful moans and I pour two glasses.
Are you in trouble?
What makes you think that? He sips his ***** and holds his hand out to me. I give him mine and his lips rest softly on my knuckles.
You're never home this early. He looks hurt, but flashes me that winning smile and takes me in his arms.
Our body heat could scorch this earth.
I look over to my full glass and sigh.
Another glass wasted..

I know where teddy's gone
the one that collected dust on your shelf
for so long
he grew tired of being chosen last
or not at all
so he let go of the past
and left

now the wild child
who found him has given
more love in their short days together
than you ever did

to think, as the blankets of time
covered the bear
you forgot he was there at all
but he had never forgotten about you
until he did

Flipping the switch
filling the room of regrets, mistakes and fears
with light.
I'd forgotten about this place.
I abandoned it long ago,
but it still exists.
Did I think this space and its contents would disappear?
I guess a girl could hope.
Foolish.
Turning the lights off only hides these things.
Who have I been trying to kid?
They've been here all along.
I told myself this place is toxic.
Maybe I should visit more often.

You’re not right
he chimed,
your mind
cluttered with what ifs and who’s who and
what color your coffin lining will be
when all the jarring in your pretty head
finally takes you over

a turbulent sea
crashing waves of this and that
these and those
staying afloat on a dab of rationale
slipping under, under
under the blanket of black and white
the only colors you see

even before you start to slip
sit and try to see the silver lining
can you make it out past those dark clouds?
It’s there, you just need to look
& hold fast

Pulled apart at the seams
I'm trying to cut you out
like I should have long ago
when the signs were clear
but what does that mean to the blind

I never thought I asked for much
just that you'd
live long and die for me
as I'd do for you
now I'm drowning in your discontent

pulled under by your ignorance of
my suffering
sinking down at least I
tried
what else could you have wanted

now I'm just another stone in the sand
at the bottom

Life in all its colors
Drip from tips of the fingers
Of those stuck behind windows and walls
Watching as the others grab happiness
As if prepositioned before their eyes
They are
Full of the joy that had left me long ago
Now I sit
looking out
Always left wanting
Of the things I let slip
Of those who never came back
Of a love and life I now know
I'll never have again

Rough hands on skin of silk
calloused and full of stories
he’s eager to use me as his canvas
he wants to make me his latest
masterpiece of love and
I accept in hopes he'll keep me
for his private collection

More or less another beginning
No further forward than before
Side stepping into another dimension
Soon standing at a different door
Unaware of what awaits
But knowing what is left behind
hollow and ungiving
no longer worthy of the time

Before the petals start to wither
And the wine begins to waste
Take a leap out of the window
Remembering to
Always roll with grace

Writer's block
my fickle muse
is presently satisfied
leaving me with nothing
but happiness and
a feeling of restless neglect
of my own expression

how ugly it is to only draw from
pain and sorrow when the destination
is always peace of mind

for the time
until it comes
and then I'm here again
always looking over my shoulder

In the darkest corner
willing the time to pass
and for the shield of youth to wane
it waits in hopes you lose control
of what you are
your potential
and eventually
you will succumb to the shadows
mistaken as comfort
they will swallow you whole
and then all will be lost