You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

you smelt of cigarette smoke too often
and you asked me what I believed in
I said I believe in the way
my knees shake when they hear your voice
I believe in the way babies cry
when they see life for the first time
I believe in the way the sun
always rises in the morning
and sets in the evening
I believe in the way
my stomach becomes
so twisted and tangled
when your eyes entwine
like ropes with mine
I believe in the way
soldiers are sometimes
at war with their own mind
I believe in the way my head
starts becoming dizzy when
you talk for a long time
I believe in sons and daughters
finding their mothers and fathers
in graves they've never seen  before
I believe in the art
of leaving
and
moving pain
for the night to come so it can
hit you in the morning  
I believe in my bones shivering
to hear your name again
I believe in the type of love that hurts
                                                        bre­aks
and                                                 bruises
everything you thought you needed
I believe in the stars and
how they just are
you smelt of cigarette smoke too often
and you asked me what I believed in  
I wasn't lying when I said you
                             -(k.s)

But he is imprinted,
upon my heart stings,
and they sound,
the most beautiful melody.
                                             A sad song,
I would never wish to forget.

it sits outside my window now
like and old woman going to market;
it sits and watches me,
it sweats nevously
through wire and fog and dog-bark
until suddenly
I slam the screen with a newspaper
like slapping at a fly
and you could hear the scream
over this plain city,
and then it left.

the way to end a poem
like this
is to become suddenly
quiet.

And I wanted revenge
something to make you feel
every ounce of pain you put me
through
and now here we are
you're falling apart
and that's when I realized
this isn't
what I wanted

For me, it's not courage
or a lack of it
that keeps me hanging
'round. When I boil it
down, it's love in the bottom
of the kettle that keeps me
breathing. I don't think it is
possible to love too much,
but man, I feel like I've been
breathing for a long **** time.

r ~ 16Mar14

Don't worry darling,
When I push you away,
I promise,
You won't feel a thing.

I'll be the one,
To burn in the fire,
The smoke,
Causing my eyes to sting.

I know it's for the better,
I'm a burden,
Don't you see?

I promise I won't blame you,

Who would want to be around me?