I read his poetry like Bukowski
religiously
I spent time drinking and *******

in protest to the aching inside of me
raking through old poems was easier
than writing new ones about the life
I was throwing away, because the
heartbreak was nothing but a wedge
drivingmeclosertothemistakesand
even further from the                       writing

I read his poems like I drink coffee
every morning
that I'm not feeling sick to my stomach
and I choke him down to spit him out
no longer masked or guarded
sparing courtesies
because the mysteries
weren't as mystical
as all the fantasies
used to be saying
it's good to look
and it's a privilege to touch

these lips ache in your absence
yet I haven't learned enough