3D print me into
something real, impulsive
and distinguished.

successive layers
built around a
pulse and backbone.

fused electrons hardwired
to my brain like therapy.

we are broken and
the sum of our spare parts.

©Ben Ditmars 2014

You took my joy of life
So can i have my heart back?

I cut myself on the future
I thought of kissing your picture
I detached myself from
lullabies and sorry eyes
only to realize:

I want to make love to you in November,
just before the empty of December.
Where snow blankets
and suffocating leaf-beds
aren't the only dreams
to fall asleep in our heads.

I could hear your voice trip
as my hands started to drip
around your hips and thighs-
You could tranquilize
with your lips and byes.

You look so sleepy-headed
Many words I have threaded
to weave a dream
desperately
but you prefer my
reality.

His smirk was the stuff of legends.
When taunted with loud rude remarks 
And thoughtless offensive assumptions.
His expression a quick stark reminder.

He did not need to raise his voice 
Or wage war with fists or words
For the source of his power
Was in the curve of his brow

His refute neatly imbued
In his wry handsome semi-smile.
That made them shrink back
To feel small and absurd.

will always be in love
with what was...

the memory
of what we could be...

I, wanting you
you needing me....

i can not understand why things won't last
i can not let go of the hold that is my past

I refuse to die
Before my eyes have witnessed
A butterfly's birth