"Calm before the storm"
has been on my lips ever since
you started looking at me with
disgust written all over your
face, (don't worry I'm revolting
there's no blame there) here look
how many tongues I can speak.
Are you intimidated yet? My eyes
are drawn dark to scare you
are you properly. Frightened. No?
I'll try harder, you say that too
and you look sad or angry (they're
the same thing these days) where's
my sympathy? You want me to
tell you I love you but how can I
when you slice my tongue every
time give me a chance to breathe
(let up your hold on my throat
please) this is the storm you are
the outlaw your gun is firing it
hasn't. Stopped. Stop. Please the
skin on your nose is burnt
red from my words you meant to
make me cry you changed my
blood pack for wine and now it's
thrumming in my veins these
words will never stop. Stop. They
won't stop because you keep
firing the gun. Stop. Help me stop.
Help.

from time to time, I still think of you.

how we used to get by...

how I fell beneath one-thousand shades;
sunrise orange, and dainty red.            
learning we were both
capable of the          
                         tilt,
                               turn,
                                       twist,
                                                 and
                                                             ­    verge.                           

I used to thank you
for spending the nights
in the living-room.
Instead of his room.

You would say,
"I like falling asleep with you,
but waking up next to him."

Yes, the bitterness is
mostly gone.
                                                           ­    
                                                            ­        
I still think of you
every now and then

this day was not like any other.
hot air from her lungs
swirled steam in the death
of November.

I felt trust for the first time.
I trusted her to leave.

I crack a corny joke out of sheer anxiety,
I say: "Well, it is the fall."

She doesn't smile, or speak, of course.

She does the talking with her eyes,
and all I hear is goodbye.

we lie, tangled.
her body and mine.
motionless, fingertips
to skin.

the voice inside my head
no longer speaks

weary of missing just one word.
or worse, breaking the silence.

it's truly perfect.

flashback

she called for the first time in a few months.

"Hi." She said.
"Hey, what's up?" I ask.
"Just got off work, wanna come over?"
"Sure."

flash-forward

she knew exactly what I would say
and it always ends the same.

the thought of her, replacing what
some call sleep, had almost rested.
now, here i am.. too late or too
early into the morning,
thinking of her and writing
to ease my trembling hand.

sometimes i think i should have been
mist so i could rest gently against
your skin, but i'm a tidal wave
and you don't want to be pulled in

the way the moon hits the water
which is a lot like how these
feelings keep hitting me, slowly
they come and slowly they go

the ocean parts us to where
we are on different continents,
but we are two hearts as one
forced apart by harsh waters
and the thoughts that we stay
up way to late thinking about

like last night with my feet
dangling off the dock above
the pond,  the goosebumps on
my skin where your warmth
should be, it was then i realized
how gone you really were

laying out under the stars
where the crickets play their
symphonic sounds, i thought
i saw you so i blinked and then
pinched myself, convinced it
must have been a silly little dream

that dock by the pond is
now where we sit with our feet
dangling above the water
and when the goosebumps come
back, you are there to warm me

you came back to me

(a.f)