awwwhh, **** the ocean and how the rain smelled!
i'm not here to conjure imagery of a pre-dawn traipse across town and the oh-so profound revelations
that came just before sleep.
shadows cast at such an angle that the front lawn looked like paradise,
the pretty words spoken in low tones as if we had a secret and couldn't let the world know.

because i wake up on the floor with something sticky in my hair and one contact twisted up in my eye that makes me squint.
i'm struck still by brash remarks on my own part
and the forgotten reactions by another
(memory fails in all  the right places)
i can not look a soul in the eye and my mumbling is half-natural and three quarters shame.
and i feel it deeply.

there will be no romanticising the ache that sticks
in your head
i will not mention how i felt life,
so freely and completely in the very hours i seek here to discount.

**** the strange beauty in pain
and **** our futures
only time will drown out the rest
the least i could do is accurately encapsulate
the pure feeling of all the ways life is nothing at all
like a poem.