during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.

My fingertips were paper cuts,
when I told you I didn't love you;
you snatched your hand away.

My voice cracked like broken glass,
when I told you I was sorry;
you turned your head away.

The windshield of your car was cracked,
and inside we were shattered.
You said I'd never see you cry;
you lied.

My hands were shaking cold
when you took off the watch i gave you.
You said you didn't want it,
and then I checked the time.

It was 9:53 on a Tuesday.
It was supposed to snow,
but it didn't.

I couldn't change the atmosphere,
or lighten your heavy heart,
despite how much I wished I could.

You turned the engine off,
and I knew that it was over.
My heart was in my stomach,
and it was all my fault.

I took off the necklace,
you gave me for my birthday.
You didn't want it back;
I left it in the cupholder.

I didn't want to leave you,
but I knew I had to.
My words were sharp like razors,
and I couldn't take them back.

I'm sorry.
For tearing at your heart.
I hurt myself too,
I don't deserve your love.

You shook your head in silence,
before you left your car.
I wished I could curl up,
in the passenger seat and wait.

Wait until the morning,
when you drank your coffee,
and pressed your shirt,
and went to your car to leave for work.

I was tired, and you tapped the window.
I wasn't surprised but I hoped it wouldn't happen.

I took my things and left your car,
the warm passenger seat.
It wasn't mine anymore,
it never really was.

I said goodbye;
you pretended not to hear.
You waved, even though
I wanted a hug.

We said goodbye,
and I knew it was over.
I said goodbye to your arms,
your voice over the phone.
I lost your favorite movies,
and the way you did your hair.

The color of your eyes would
become just a memory,
and the curves of your lips,
would fade just like my perfume.

If I said I wouldn't miss you,
that would be a lie.
I missed you almost instantly,
as soon as I said goodbye.

I swallowed my pride,
and pushed aside my regret.
I needed to walk myself home.

I looked back to your house,
but you weren't on the porch.
I remembered sitting there,
just talking on the steps.
It'd be passed 1am,
but we wouldn't notice that.

You'd say goodbye,
then let me leave,
but you'd always call my name.

I know it'll never be the same.

Every step I took,
I felt you fade away.
I couldn't do anything,
to make you stay.
It was all my fault.

I'm sorry.
I didn't want to say goodbye.