When my mind wanders to thoughts of you
(it so often does, you know)
they aren’t the most obvious daydreams;
you are never on a white horse,
shirtless on some sunset beach or
feeding me chocolate-dipped strawberries.

Instead I dream of the littlest things
about you –
the sound you make when something excites you,
your reaction to a joke.

Things that shouldn’t matter
pop into my head as I wait in a line (you call them queues):
the way you drive
how you eat an apple
the temperature of your skin.

When I can’t be with you I pass the time
conjuring the smell of you –
not cologne (you don’t wear it) –
The way you smell when I wake up
in the middle of the night
to nestle closer to you.

I love just to sit and remember you,
from the weight of your arms around me
to the way your hands move
your lips too, how they form those
three splendid words.

I could spend hours imagining you
entirely
and when I come to,
shaken from my reverie,
I could spend hours more
counting the goosebumps
your ghost has given me.

I'm pushing past the looks of disappointment on every ones face
I'm trying to find peace in this ruined place
secretly i'm insane
going through the same roles just to play this game
I have been locked away chained to the front porch with no escape
my demons come through out the day
they say hey
they make me play
I distort their images
because hands on me with faces like that
It makes me not able to breathe
but my demons, these lions they can see
the scars on my skin from the battles within
I am dissociated with this world
stuck on this front porch step.

I feel like trash being ready
to be picked by whoever has
the worst taste
finding out later
that they only needed the bag.
emptying my contents on to the grass
half broken and dismembered
pieces of glass left behind from the time
I broke my mirror
unfinished 40 ounces from winter break.
the first time I ever got drunk and threw up.
It felt good.
Half a dozen 8ths
I smoked for a whole month
after she left me and my parents
kept lecturing me about
how much I ****** at
being alive

I think about you everyday and I know you think I'm insane. you're the reason I take those pills when I can't sleep and you're the reason I don't wake up in the morning and gag when I eat and I still feel the way you touched my heart (what's left of it) and I remember how you felt pushing into me like the wind blowing a cloud with such force and comfort and is it bad i remember the way your nails looked and the way the hair peekabooed out of your nose like a hare in a hole and your arms soft and strong when you wrapped yourself around me like a boa constrictor with its prey
but let that not be just a metaphor for the way that you held me, I mean you squeezed the life out of me with your anger and jealousy, you used me and ate what was left of the security I thought I had. If you hadn't killed me when you left I wouldn't miss you so bad. You took parts of me I didn't know Id miss, you took parts of me I didn't know I had. You gave me a new name and bad habits. Now I smoke when I think of you and I miss sharing a cigarette with you in the car like we didn't have a **** in the world. We were lonely sinners that no one cared about. Who'd give a **** about the couple that cut each other and snuck out at midnight to make love and lied our ***** off because we didn't have anything better to do. Partners in crime, slowly killing ourselves, slowly killing each other.

i don't deserve the stars
in your eyes and the electricity in
your smiles. you are a
thousand watts, composed with
all the atoms that make
up me; you are the rays of sun in
my silver linings; and me?
i'm just the moon, caught in between
an eclipse of life and death.

How many times does the average person fall in love?
Hmm maybe 10?
Or is it just once?
I've strongly felt desire.
And I've strongly felt lust.
But only now am I coming to terms with the fact that I have no idea what I feel when I think of you.
They tell me I must be crazy..
But this heartache is stronger than any other.
It's got to be love.
It just has to be.

She has been used.
She has been abused.
And maybe comes across a little confused.

She's the girl they talk about.
Oh, she has a bad reputation.
Oh, she's a home wrecker.
Oh, you shouldn't hang around her.
The girl ain't nothing but trouble.

She heard it all, by being the girl they talk about.

If she's a home wrecker.
Then your spouse/lover was just exposed , as not being faithful.
If she earned a bad reputation.
Pay close attention the men chasing after her.
The preacher.
The teacher.
The college student.
The happy marry man-least the way it seem.
Yes, pay attention to the men visiting her.
Some comes from esteem position.

If she has a bad reputation.
Then she might taught skills to yours to be a better lover.
Even if, she's the girl that they talk about.

Then, just who is this girl?
The wife  partying daily.
The student that's stripping.
The minister's wife that pretending to be saintly.
While many know Christ's not in her.

Hard to say, who's the girl they are talking about?

The dark curves of his towering structure-----home.
Arms reach in the shadows to grasp me in a hold of immeasurable calm;
His head, nestling in the crevice of my neck, gently stroaking me with his nose;
Kisses, baby kisses, sprinkled along the silhouette of my jaw;
Legs wrapped around one another, tighter as to feel the warmth of his skin;
Hands finding each other's touch, the familiar sensation.
Snake like arm grip, tightening, and tightening still----never close enough,
Perfection Reached.

                                                       ­           *s.q.