june tenth
the pale lamp in my room is flickering again,
you told me fifty three times to fix it,
i never did.

september twenty-first
every morning i drink apple juice,
you liked orange juice and always asked me to buy some,
i never did.

september twenty-fifth
wednesday: the day you were born,
once you were gone i was supposed to forget,
i never did.

october third
halloween is coming up,
you told me to dress up as captain america,
i never did.

may second
it's spring time and the flowers are hopping up from their beds, (another thing i never did)
i can't believe the world still goes on but,
i never did.

may eighteenth
i read the fifth harry potter book,
i skipped two and four; you once told me to write my own story,
i never did.

may twenty-seventh
you always laid out my meds for me on our lillypad green paper napkins,
but whenever i'd take them you'd vanish, so,
i never did.

june first
i played a mel tormé record,
you said i had a better voice than him whenever i sang along but,
i never did.

june sixth
i cried for the first time in three days,
the world felt heavier today, i tried to let it crush me but,
it never did.

june tenth
now its been,
well,
time seems a bit funny to me now a days.
but i guess its probably been two months or so,
but the calendar says four years,
but the calendar wouldn't be the first thing to lie to me in here.
but i want to let you know:

i don't have lamps now,
i only am allowed water,
they never tell me what day it is,
i haven't even seen a halloween since your absence,
the only thing close to flowers in here is the pattern on my gown,
the "library" here *****, there is a total of nine books. they are all gross romance novels,
my meds now come in a tiny paper cup four times a day,
they only play country here and thats only on music therapy days,
the world floated up
                                    up
                         ­                 up
                                             ­   and away, i assume it took you with it,

i guess it is just and fair that this happened to me,
i mean look at all the things you asked that i did not do for you,
but i asked you one thing,
and you said you'd always be with me, but,
you never did
**no one ever did

as always, i have been reading poems new to me,
by poets also new to me.
while my eyes caressed each word as if it were the last orb of breathe of the last flower to freeze in the winter,
the engines in my dingy brain halted, without warning.
without any obvious street sign or road block.
but then the pearl of a thought latched itself to me, became apart of me.
and for days now i have been molding this thought in my hands as a preschooler using a new tube a playdoh would.
my fingers manipulated the string of words,
maybe this will wor- no no maybe if i pinch this here it wi- no no no
no
    no
no
     NO
so, i decided to come flat out and bring to life the embryo of an idea of a thought that was swelling and letting water into my brain.

who is the "you"?
yes, i said it who the hell is the "you"?

i have seen it is the best and most famous poets' poems,
i have even seen it in my own.
the "you".

who is your "you"?
you know, example: when you write a poem and instead of saying "Sam" (your ex you haven't gotten over) you just put the word "you" instead?

look at these:

Sam kissed my eyelids,
but Sam only kissed them so i wouldn't see his lies.

and you turn it into:

You kissed my eyelids,
but you only kissed them so i wouldn't see your lies.

another example:

the "you" in this poem is, well, you.

hello,
right now i have renovated this hello poem,
a hefty amount of times,
with the hearty intent,
to get this hellish hunk of hello poem of my heavy tongue.

hello,
hardly have i crafted a poem,
i have instead handwoven a handy distraction from the whole point.

hello,
all of the half-decent "h" sounding alliteration words have horribly,
been wasted on his half-assed poem.
having ruined the word 'hello' and any horrid word with similarities,
in the phonetics or what have you,
i end this poem here.
and i end this hallowed hell of this poem in high regards to you.

doesn't everyone want to be dead?