How long does it take
for the urge to fade?

I still
search for shelter in your
words and phrases

but there is nothing more written
on those pages.

Inside I feel so big,
My feelings are so big,
But I am always left to
Feel like I'm small,





I am so small.

If a picture is worth
a thousand words,
is a memory worth
a million?

I am rich in words.

And in letting you go,
I have been struck with perhaps
the greatest melancholy
in that I have started to forget
the sound of your voice

You're a cigarette and I
can't find a patch.
You taste foul in my mouth,
my tongue is dried out and my
words taste like tar as your
name rattles out;
I feel sickly satisfied as I realize
I have nothing else to scratch my itch.

You are
You have always been
a bad habit.

I quit.

I once read that
there is a wrinkle in time and
ever since I've sought to
parse out the clock's seconds and
feel every whisper of wind on
my skin and
sneak glances at sunrises through
blinds and
taste snowflakes and rainstorms and
wrinkle my nose at
good and bad smells in
Time's wrinkle and
gaze at moonlight twinkle.