Lightning can’t strike
the same place twice
I came back, both times greeted
with the same empty feeling, a hollow nice
to meet you, I’m not from here though
I can show you around. And just so you’re
aware I don’t mean my soul, I’ve
learned not to bring others
out over such thin ice
melts in your drink, the sun
working on what your appetite
can’t finish, conversation
and laughter filling your stomach
instead, using up as much of the
term ‘literally’ as they can.

An empty echo is all
I hear of the storm once near
me is where you have chosen
to be, and the proximity is
refreshing, genuine. I know
because I can’t identify the source
of my affection, buried too
deep beneath hope and fear
is still present. Though I look
at it as a gift, reassurance that
I’m still aware of your ability
to snap my neck, a vulnerability
that has made everything so clear
everything out of this god
**** house! I saw the way he slid
off your blouse, our memories
and moments followed both of your
sweat and stink down the drain

my brain of all of these thoughts.
You were not the calm but
a continuation of the sleet and rain
is all I hear now each night,
soft breath and hair replaced
by an acute understanding of
the weather outside my window,
with no heartbeat to fall asleep
to, no vessel to my attention contain
my rage! This is a new page!

Lightning did strike twice.
Though the next storm
I’m sure I can persuade.