If I could catch anything
with these small stubby hands
I'd catch the train
that leads to  you.

I never realized
you were the* only reason
for facebook

and as I watched you walk
away from me,
I knew I never tried hard enough

I wish these sheets were a cave
I could hide in forever
bury my face in
comfortable old threads
and familiar smells

where time moves slowly

breaths
deep and full
lungs filled to capacity
diaphragm like the arch of a gymnast's back

where the darkness swallows
rocking back and forth
cradles you upon its tongue.

but it is what it is

..a scrunched up fist of frustration
tired sponge to daily tears

a ***** throw away rag
to an unfolded morning rush

it's
     just
           a piece  

           of cloth.