You’ve left your fingerprints upon my heart:
Indelible,
and irrevocable.
And not only the prints
but the fingers too;
how they twist and toy with it.
And not just the fingers
but the hands as well,
and they grip and yank and give me hell.
And more than hands,
the arms that hug and hold it tight
unwilling to let it go, but always reaching for something more.

2:00 am
This is the sort of silence that makes a man insane.
2:01
I find myself writing once again, coping as I can.
A lovesick heart still writhing in the throes of loss
And spewing empty words, lacking any meaning.  
2:03
And I'm still unoriginal;
Never have I said a thing not said before.
2:10
And I wonder why it's taking me so long to get over you
And why your visage fills my vision every time I shut my weary eyes.
2:12
And I ought to take back every word I’ve said
Because I didn’t mean them, or at least I shouldn’t have.
2:25
I'm beginning to believe you'll never be the one for me.
2:26
And I realize you came to that conclusion long ago.
2:40
And I find it funny that somehow, even now
You keep me from my sleep and haunt my every dream.
2:45
I'm feeling rather sick
Of sitting on the sadder side of somberness.
2:58
It's nights like this that make me wonder if I'll ever be complete again.

I fear:

I. the end of days
like some irreverent foot that with one mismotion
destroys an anthill,
and so the beauty of this world and
the beauty of you will be
lost
confined to a memory rife with inconsistency

II. that the tiny spark of hope
of faith
of desire to grow will
sputter in my palms
despite my cupping hands against the wind
and I will sink below the depths I am

III. that when I bare my soul, I expose my mind
and the utter nakedness of my intentions come to light and
I will be
known

IV. death and its cousin omniscience:
do those who loved me see me now?
Will I watch you love another when I leave?

V. knowledge, for knowing the truth invalidates inaction

VI. ascension, for I am unworthy on my own to rise, and
who will catch me in my meteoric fall?

VII. that we are all but endless and
eternity whispers to us in our
mortal state
reminding us in echoes that our heartbeats are merely
countdowns.

It seems that time must fly
For once I scoffed and said
"Never in a thousand years..."
But here I am.
I told you once, "forever"
I promised you, "forever"
And yet, forever somehow came to pass.

I thought I'd never leave my home
I thought I'd never be alone
But now I've crossed these empty lands
And I wonder why I left
And why things had to change.

Now, I sincerely miss you like hell
And I have nothing,
Not even a hope of hearing you smile.

Starting now, I vow
To never make another promise
Or think about the future
For the things I held so close
Were the first to shatter on the floor.

Don't interpret this as arrogance
But somehow I believe that every word I've penned of you has given you eternal life. 
I don’t intend my mindless musings to last beyond the end of days.
But once the pen impacts the paper,
Once the key is struck, 
My words obtain a permanence that cannot be undone. 
The ways you built me up and broke me down
How you fulfilled my every dream, then showed me where they go to die
How you whispered to me where to find my heart, and then you ripped it out before my eyes.
Every action, every word, love and spite, here and now, immortalized. 

If you love a poet 
(And worse, if you choose to let him love you, too)
Then you, my dear, will never cease to be.

"If you truly love something, you must let it go."
I watch the dove fly from my open hands,
A flurry of wings, fear, and confusion.
It spirals above, and for a moment
It seems the world is too much
And it longs to be contained.
But it ceases its sad circle
Without glancing back.
It heralds its freedom
And wings away
To my dismay
As my tears
Begin to
Fall.

In a world that fears commitment
you said you'd spend your life with me.
In a world that asks for payment,
you gave your love for free.

Despite the pain of loss, life goes on
in an almost morbid mockery of me.
No matter where I go, I feel I don’t belong
in a place where I stand fixed and everything is moving.

They all said to me:
“Recognize, indeed, she's really
not a thing you need
And abstain from writing things of her
that she will never read.”

Somehow, I still long for the harmony
of our full and beating hearts entwined.
And I wonder if you miss me, reminiscing
of all the times when I could hold your hand in mine.

But I still hold you close to my head
and closer to my heart,
it was always us against the world,
and now we're worlds apart.

Please
bury me there--right there--in the
shade of the sycamore where the
sand will never dry.
When you carry me down feel the river rocks they
groan and grate beneath our weight.
Bury me shallowly so that
someday
if the rains return
the water will swell and find the strength to
carry me home.

I gave you my entire heart.
What a grievous mistake.

Our
         love
          was
       a hand
      grenade.
   You pulled
      the pin.

When you died,
O, God,
and my life flashed before your eyes

did it make you wish you never chose the cross?

What if the clouds above us
Lit ablaze
As they covered the stars tonight?
What if they fell
To baptize us in flame
As we lay beside each other
Waiting for something to happen?
What if the earth swallowed us whole
And we never saw another soul?
What if something supernatural, something strange
Really happened in this moment
Like we so desperately hope?

What if you and I had never met?
What if the separate roads we took in life
Were not yet built
Or turned another way?
What if all the things we wished had never happened
Were bottled up and thrown into the sea?
What if you don't wake tomorrow—
Where would I be?
And if we were a continent apart—
As we will be soon—
How would I cope?
What if I went my way
And you went yours—
And what if our ways won't ever intersect?
What if we reunite someday
But we don't really know each other?

I believe
That if we truly dwell in possibility
We won't enjoy the time we have.
So let’s just lie right here and stare at the nighttime clouds
And let's be glad that nothing truly happened.

And today,
the west end is on fire
again like clockwork and I
pray for devastation--
for once it's all reduced to ash
the world may never
burn again.

He strides like stepping over
shattered glass his
twig legs make two tiny wakes and he
finds his spot outside the eddies
in the slightest sunbeam
beneath the willow where he
shudders his beak and blinks
blinks
slowly
blinks
until his eyelids no longer lift
and deep within his secret place
he finally withdraws.

Follow streams of Thought
to discover
a reservoir
of Inspiration...

This is my dissonance: I
live in a
sad place
in the shadow of my former
self

in a narrow world
with work and sleep and
not a single sunrise

in a small space with
rats in the attic
a never-made bed and the
ever-present realization:
I must leave or be
consumed.

If I can call a woman beautiful or pure
It's safe to say she's far beyond my reach.
So here's my resignation:
I want the world to know I'm giving up.
It would be far more noble in my mind
to be alone by choice than consequence.

Groan again your siren song--oh!--it comes in broken weakened
waves.
Once you licked my neck like
long-departed loves, now you sell yourself to other
pity-ridden men.
I still yearn for glimpses
glimmers
anything.
Squinting at the aging sun I
strain my eyes to catch the stars
masked by pale blues, smoggy greys
winter rains, blinding rays--but
won't you wish your heart upon me?
Won't you trace my jawline with your lips? Your
delicate fingers, sultry eyes--
remember me.
Make me feel pitiful again.

A mourning dove flew inside the machine shop. He perched on industrial piping near the ceiling.

Half the day passed.

I struck up a conversation with him.

"Pardon me, but I don't believe you belong here."

Quite perturbed, he chirped,
"I'm well aware."

"Then why have you been here for so many hours?"

Nothing.

"You could fly right out that door."

Silence. He preened his feathers.

Angrily,
"You have wings! A song! A love, I'm sure! Yet here you sit and sit and sit, while freedom is just outside! Why?"

Finally, a response:
"I could ask the same of you."

Oh.

He placed his head under his wing.

The next morning, he was dead on the floor.

“Have hope; there’s someone out there for you. You just haven’t met her yet.”
Allow me to object. I met her years ago
And somewhere in the meantime she showed me what it means to love
And even to this day I feel her name engraved upon my heart.

When I stared into her ocean eyes
And I moved my lips to form “I love you,”
I felt it in my soul: the reason I was born
The purpose of my being, the thing that God intended.

But see, He didn’t make us into perfect-fitting puzzle pieces
(Despite all the idealists and Such Great Heights)
But I believe He destined me to fall in love with her
And He made her to fall in love with someone else.

So now I lie alone, to ponder inequality
And contemplate the ways I'll never be complete.