I grow tired and place my head
down in his lap, looking up at him.
I worry how he will receive this action
but there is nothing to worry about because
he smiles at me as if this were our normal routine.

And to my surprise, he leans down over me
and he kisses my forehead sweetly,
just the way he used to when he was almost mine.
And even more surprising, he leans down again
and kisses my forehead again
and then again
and then once more.

All around there are murmurs of confusion
as no one has seen us this way in a while
but we pay them no mind because we
are stuck in this moment in time.

--
He grows tired and places his head
down upon my lap, looking up at me.
He does not worry how I will receive this action
because everything is too perfect for words right now
and this used to be our normal routine.

And not much to his surprise, I run my fingers
through his hair, tracing over paths I memorized
so very, very long ago.

And I feel myself compelled to lean down and
kiss his lips, but I don't because something is
different, strange, wrong about this situation.

I cannot decide what it is and I do not care
because I have him here and everything is beautiful.

And just before I lean down to press my lips to his,
He is gone and I?
I have opened my eyes.

And I think to myself with a smile,
*what a wonderful dream.

Today you came back.
Just like old times,
you said with a smile.

Seeing you across the table
the way you used to be,
I was forced to remember
that at that table, you and I
used to share glances and hugs
and smiles and stolen moments.

I was forced to remember the way
it rained on that very first day back at the
start of January and we were forced
to stand because the tables were all wet.

I was forced to remember how you'd
held me in your arms and wouldn't let go
and I was forced to remember how I really
didn't want you to at all.

I was forced to remember how we were
everybody's ever after, everybody's meant to be
and nobody's disappointment except our own.

And then I was forced to acknowledge the words
that have been hanging on the tip of my tongue.
All this time I've thought of saying them, but then you
would know the truth and I couldn't let that happen.

All this time I've wanted to say,
I miss him being here, with us
laughing and joking, sharing his smile
and his music and his dreams.
I miss him being here, making things
interesting, amusing us all and me
especially.

And I contemplated telling someone
but I feared you would find out.

I'm glad you came back for today.
I hope you don't leave again too soon.
And for making me admit this,
I guess this round goes to you.



You know you guys love me,
you said smiling.
Sometimes, I said sarcastically.
Sometimes, you repeated with a smile.

you make me nervous
in that good, deep down
always wanting more
never let me go way
you are my best friend
you've brought me through
so much, I owe you my success
but I want you
that's the thing
I want you so badly
but I'm afraid
I'm not sure if you feel
the same way
last night you put
your arms around me
your hand on the back of my neck
my hands touching your
strong arms
it was everything I ever wanted
but it was less than I needed
I want you
not just friends who cuddle
not just two people who touch
I want you
in that heady, uncontrollable way
that curls my toes when
you touch my shoulder
it's killing me
I want you to stop
I want to stop
but I don't know if
I can take not feeling your
heartbeat against me
I want you
but you make me nervous

Every moment, we are wasting away-
Our poor, dejected ambitions
Float empty
Atop a sea of partially sane intentions
Kept by a god
With a pension for deceit.
Tick tock,
Crazy never comes on time-
And three sneezes mean an unsuspected
Guest. Dilapidated hours
Wear thin
As they desperately reach to cover
The long, convoluted skeleton
Of youth.
Remnants of the past prevail,
Buried deep beneath
Cedar floors and $50 graveyard slots,
In all it's half attainable glory,
Strewn out across
A marble coffin,
Like heavy dice
Waiting to tumble down
Into reality.
The old bell tower,
Cracks and screeches
Her unrequited laments
To the indifferent sky-
Every evening at 5:01.
With each hollow ring,
Age seeps through our pores,
Mixing in and diluting our dreams,
Sinking down into the deepest crevice of our
Contorted being. Tick
Tock, time can only dance if there's a rhythm:
The beating of our hearts
Sounds on, vibrating off
The hollow cavity
Which should hold something
Living. Nothing's real here,
As our insignificant lives
Race each other down the dim and slippery
Hallway that is life.
Until sooner or later,
One by one,
We all lose our footing
And fall down the rabbits hole
To meet something like
Death- the only evidence that we were ever
Alive.
Hour hands reach out from their miniature sphere:
A cyclical world full of half past ten
And white empty spaces between
Vacant numbers,
Grasping our warm
Pulsing bodies,
And pulling us closer
Towards something almost like The End-

Tick tock,
Russian Roulette is only lucky
Until it's over.