Your breath is in mine
Melancholy synchronized
Sleep is bittersweet

I can whistle all I want, but you’ll never be here again like you said in my dreams.

     "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
     Now that you’re gone, who can I trust.”

There are still pieces of my inner poet hanging on, but most of them died with you.

     "Has the dawn drawn any nearer? You’ve been too many days without the sun.
     A stranger stands in your mirror,  falsely content with all he’s become.”

I always thought that if one of us were to actually go through with it, it would be me.

     “Tainted blood like a river flows, a steaming pool of red bordeaux."

But it was you. And truthfully, it’s always been you.

The receipt hasn't left my bathroom mirror. It has yet to abandon its post. Its ink has not faded and its edges have not torn. It has been a faithful yet painful reminder of the loss of a good friend. Someone who was once more than a picture in an album. Someone that was more than a smile on my face. Someone that lived and breathed and dreamed.
The receipt is not a visual masterpiece. It has a picture of a Japanese arch accompanied by the date-January 24th 2010, the time-12:45 pm, and the total price- $4.50. But the day I got that receipt was more than wonderful.
The laughter and smiles swept over stone paths and wound through great stalks of bamboo. Fountains trickled with the sound of peace and comfort. Flowers accompanied our every footstep in the garden that seemed to be something out of a dream.
But the most spectacular of all the places in the garden was the coy pond. We got so close to the water that we almost fell in. We made faces at the fish and each other and even told tales of the fish and their imaginary social lives.
I spent a day with Carson Brooks that will stay with me forever. I never could have imagined that the person that so softly whispered with the breeze would choose to put out the light that shone brightly and brilliantly from his heart.
His body is now one with the earth and his soul is free to wander wherever he pleases. But in my heart and in my mind, Carson will always be there in the garden, knelt by the coy pond creating ripples on the water with his fingers tips and smiling softly at me with kindness that would put any angel to shame.

I want to go
Back to the place
Where we first met

Because I’m feeling sentimental
In a good way
Without all those regrets

The ones that keep
Me awake at night
Make my bones crack

With their crippling nostalgia
That constantly reminds me
You’ll never come back

My mind is a
House settling in summer
While humid air invades

As I wave goodbye
To my fleeting sanity
And termites chew away

Back to the destination
That was a secret
Until we got there

And the soccer goals
And a piggy-back ride
And cold winter air

But then you said
Your tunnel’s light faded
Some time in June

But all I remember
Is a baseball field
stars and the moon

And I must wonder
Did your bones crack
As mine do now

And did they cave
In on your soul
With crushing hollow sounds

Traffic lights are
melting into the air
dissolved by tears
until you blink
and send them rolling
down your cheeks
leaving behind
a hot, wet trail
the pool is collecting
under your chin
and you’re beginning
to wonder if all this
is worth any of the trouble

Your absence turns my soul colors
Like cheap metal on my fingers.
And it seems, even when I scrub,
That putrid green won’t go away.
My skin is left raw and bleeding
Waiting for relief that will never come.
And along with my soul it cries out for you.
For your touch.
For a moment of peace within your heart.
But I know I am not there.
Never again will you breathe my name.
Or touch my skin.
Or dry my tears.
And that tainted green will stay forever,
As a reminder of what we could have been.

Have I told you about the way
your heart sounds like the wings
of the butterflies in my stomach when I see you?
Or how your teeth shine like
ivory piano keys when
you say nice things to me?
But they’re crooked boards
in a sinking room when you
scream words that make my ears hurt.
The one’s that turn my butterflies
into stinging bees and
make my emotions rise to my throat.
But I wouldn't give
any of it up.
Because bees make honey.
And you can hide secrets
under the floor boards.
And that’s worth a million
stupid piano keys.

What if I wanted to run away
Hide in my car
Or go to the park
Or lay on the beach
Would you come with me

Because I can’t seem
To shake this lost feeling
So maybe if I really
Get lost
I’ll find myself

But what if I don’t
Like what I find
Because you can’t
Take back personalities
Like you can blouses

So maybe I’ll just
Stay put
And write poetry

In the morning on the eleventh of September, Two Thousand and One, New York City stopped and stared.
Then they ran and screamed and took to the streets, their eyes filled with terror.
And then the second bird hit that one last standing twin,
And the land of the free shook with fear from within.
We watched from TVs and heard on the radio.
We heard the screams and saw friends jump from windows.
And at the end of the day we had lost many lives.
But there were some things that could not be taken.
Our freedom, our hope, our pride.

I remember it
A time when the sun was warmer
And the snow colder
When laughter billowed up
Like smoke from our throats
It made the air kinetic
And made our noses defrost
A time when we felt whole
Like the world couldn't take from us
All the things we loved
But soon we found that the sun was setting
And the snow turning to ice
And the laughter that once devoured our fears
Froze over with it
And suddenly all things were broken
The things we loved were lost
And I longed so deeply for the winters of my past
That I became them.
But without you the sun was set forever
The cold no longer comforted me
And the electric air became still
As did my heart

The world is full of sinners
cleverly disguised as saints.
And this room is full of kids
who just can’t seem to wait.

As I think these things
the reality sinks in deep.
But I've no clue how to to react
so I just stare at my feet.

How far have I walked in my life?
Were those just my last steps?
Is this what I’d hoped for?
To be stuck in my own head?

To twist and turn around my thoughts,
until I’m dizzy down on my knees.
To squirm around like a fish out of water
until I've lost the will to breathe.

Or had I hoped for a resolution?
Some great thought to stop my tears.
Or maybe a purpose to hold on to,
that could carry me through the years.

I guess I just wanted somewhere to belong;
a place to share my point of view.
But even that is not right
because all I really wanted was you.