Chain smoking sadness, slapped by time.
Winter doesn't freeze the pain.
There was one thing that
Mom wanted more than
anything else in the world:
It was to have a
picture of her
seven kids all together,
in one place,
at one time.
There was an age
difference of
23 years between the
youngest to the oldest,
and 1000 miles separating us.

In December of 1987
two weeks before Christmas,
I held a picture of
the seven of us all together.
I put it in the
right front pocket of
her navy blue blazer.
After the funeral,
we buried her with it.

On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees all
ablaze with color.
I can still smell the
smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my
heart was wild;
a wilderness that wouldn't
be tamed.
But I'm afraid that
old age has quenched my
thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed up knees and
swords made out of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
Just constipation to overcome;
as I listen to the
ticking of the clock.

She's like a complaining child
Whose rant win everyone;
Hearts! Such a grace she has
They say everyone has a shine
But her shine seems marvellous!
A dove whose;
Delicacy is like a blueberry
But she pretends she's a hulk
So,no one can suppress
Her emotions, her vibrancy!

You wear that token;
On your finger
For the sake of attention
In order to look catching
After a short span
Remove it from your finger
Because now that ring
Which seem to be a precious token;
Is now itching you!

There is sunlight in your eyes
and it is a place
I wish I could
escape to.
It is warm
and I am cold.

There is sunlight in your eyes
and I know
it does not
live in mine.
This cave I hide in
does not have room
for you.

There is sunlight in your eyes,
in the world
I used to be in.
Nothing grows here
anymore,
but weeds
and a grey sad.
My hands are covered with it.

There is sunlight in your eyes.
You are alive.
I don’t know what that feels like.

I miss you
the most
at midnight.
It’s too dark
and not dark enough
and I’m just not myself
crying over you
for the third time tonight.
I think of the way
you always laugh at my jokes
and how it feels
like sometimes
you understand why I’m not laughing.
My bed feels like
a prison at 1am
when I just want
to hear you say my name
and you’re somewhere else
with someone else.
I can’t think about
your hands
and how I know they feel
on me
except you’re no longer
on me
but someone else
much better.
And it’s close to 2am
only now I don’t miss you
but the girl
I used to be
before you let me believe
I could be someone different.
She’s somewhere inside,
rotting like a corpse
because you’ve made
my room feel like
a graveyard.
Now it’s 3am
and I’m just wishing
for this to stop
so I don’t have to feel
so alone
anymore.