My body
feels small as I
stare at the the cracks in the
ceiling and
I am so small in my
loneliness,
my body shrinks and my
eyes glaze;
sandpaper tongue
and dry eyes
breathing stale air
and the cycle goes over and over
crumbling and
cracking and
splintering,
stumbling in darkness, my
body numb and also

Aching.

I'd ask where you are but
I don't even
Know who You is and that
is perhaps the most
painful part.
Or maybe it's that I'm so
        alone
in my loneliness(no one quite
seems to recall
t heir I solation)

Trees and grapes
I resolve to not need to
solve it;
I need no u's and
know you's

I
looked on at a
yellow sky,
creamy meringue;
peppered with
feathers and wings,
the lemonade stage
for the black bird dancing.

Crisp November winds and
overheated toes,
I lost my head in the
music on the
dimly lit road.

And still,
in the complete silence,
the universe
whispers your
name
and I
stretch out my fingertips,
searching for
you in the
overwhelming

darkness.

"I'm writing to you from a distance like a pen pal."


My war letters remain unanswered.
Sincerely,

Not yours,
Truly.

It absolutely amazes me,
the dichotomy of how
you can make me feel so special and
unique
and simultaneously
leave me feeling so desperate and
cheap.

You are the best and the worst,
the source of my greatest joy and
deepest sorrow,
and I am sick in my desire to
not feel these extremes;
I am sick in my desire to
not
feel
anything.

It's time
to get off
this ride.

Sometimes I prefer
sleeping to waking,
for in my dreams
our love is
without complication.

I put on my glasses to
refocus my vision,
but I realize it is my distracted mind
that hinders me,
work documents transposed with your face,
my mouth still filled with your taste,
your body still bruised into me and
your skin still stuck to my fingernails;
my body aches for your touch,
my ears yearn for the feeling of your teeth,
my mouth hungry for your lips;
my eyes stare blankly at my computer monitors as
my brain remains transfixed on the way
we intertwine and
how you make my limbs shake;

I'm not sure my boss will understand
that 8 hours a day has gone by,
and all I have managed to accomplish is
the perpetual fantasizing of the way you make me sweat,
the way you take away my breath,
how you disassemble me.