during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

It died when there was a threat of spark
I didn’t even notice the fall of each brick
Traces of tears flourished like a birthmark
That beautiful moment was like a magic trick

Inexplicable, it was
To see every little thing alive dying
When I thought it was a thing to last
But I was fooled by my own thinking

There were ups and downs, I knew
But never did I consider the extremity of it
I was happy when it grew
And now, I can’t even tell if it was really concrete

They say it’s a ferocity in disguise
A well-known thing related to insanity
Sugarcoated with truth, confronted by lies
Love is, indeed, such an eerie casualty

You are certainly a comfort in this chaotic world
You represent all of the existent things that were left unlearned
You give glittering lights to the darkest places of my soul
You fill every hole in me so I can be humanely whole

she will always remember
the bus ride home
and all the places
they’d been together
with all the disguises
they wore just
to hold hands
and the stolen kisses
they put much effort on doing

but of all the things she will
never forget about him,
it's the way he looked at her
with focused and begging eyes,
that will haunt her for the rest of her life

we both knew
that this was going to hurt
sooner or later
so stop crying
this love is a wound
that we kept on pretending,
kept lying to ourselves
was a battle scar
for a war
we've never even fought

I'll pack my bags
and stitch my wounds
so please, at least
have the decency
to tell me you didn't
really love me

at least, give me
a reason to sleep
after I've cried
rivers out of my eyes

lie for me
one last time
for old times sake
pretty please?