Blank pages haunt me so.
I want nothing more than
my words to flow

freely from my fingertips.
I crave expression worthy
of her attentiveness.

I want to grant her a repose
from the mediocrity of my
anemically feeble prose.

But my words no longer
shock and stop her heart,
her knees are stronger
and harder to make weak.
And I know my words no
longer impress her because
they no longer impress me.

My body absorbs
caffeine and sunshine
and I smile.

Cruising around town
with my imagination
running wild.

I hold the shifter
and pretend it's her hand,
I haven't felt this in awhile.

The wind blows
and the car rocks,
it goes on for miles.

I light up a smoke,
go for broke, and
close my eyes.

I haven't felt this in awhile.

It hurts to love you
because every breath I take
marks a moment you
are closer to your last one
and my lungs can't take
that truth. It hurts to love you
because my arms lie
aching at my sides every
moment they could be
holding you, and the weight of
that is somehow more
than I can take. It hurts to
love you because my
brain is leaning so fully
on something that is
not even mine that I both
long for and hate who
I might have been (Who was I?)
before.

She laughs and slowly starts to die,
Smiling as blade touches thigh
I'm too young to think this way.
To have so much fear and so much pain.
Why not just stop the clock?
She thinks and sighs,
tonight's the night I will die.
Too dumb to notice, too high to care
that his love is still there.
With one more curse up to the sky,
she digs the blade in and says goodbye.