This is where your heartbeat lingers:
somewhere between hospital bed sheets
and the new-found aching in my chest.

The bed in which you slept
has been soiled by silent tears
and your nervous sweat.

You were always home to me,
but I was robbed by all your misery.

Replace your sorrows with an absence
of yourself, and I'll make my home
in your hospital bed sheets.

For some, this is a place of miracles.
For us, it's one of tragedy.

Woman, with the six string in your lap,
honey,
make the mountain sing.
Lover, in the sweaty satin sheets,
baby,
show me the good the night does bring.
You stained my skin with delicate song
the caress of your melody urges me on.

I hope you heard my voice, in your sleep
and it haunts your waking hands that reach for me
in your empty bed.

I hope your arms forget everything but the air around them,
and you cling to memories instead of holding me.
*My bed is empty, too.

Each day of December is one spent waiting
for something new to come along
and compensate for the year I've had.

Here comes another year,
but right now we're all taking shots,
and kissing people we won't remember tomorrow.
As the clock strikes midnight,
everyone in the room is glowing.
Hopes and dreams are renewed again,
but all I can do is reflect on 365 days I failed.

Happy new year,
all the people I love are excited to begin again.
But today is just another day to me,
another day of December.

It's hard to celebrate new beginnings
when every day is spent waiting for one.
If you need me, I'll be in December
still trying to salvage what I left there.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.