Odd boxes,
Patch the room.
Small plates of food
Half eaten, dusted,
With leftover crumbs and papers.
The phone never calls
And shades are drawn for days
Only opening for small, dropping lights
That move in the eves.

I can
Not look at all the photographs I took
Of us
Even though I want to,
Even though they lie
Close to me
With my unmade bed, on the floor
Always falling,
But never to sleep, without you,
Empty.

It started with a whisper
His voice felt like dark red velvet
He had a chaotic mystery on his tongue
And his head was a garden full of secrets
His eyes were maps of places he had been
Places he wanted to take me
As he whispered
I felt my heartstrings pull against my chest
He had wrapped me up in the sweet nothings that he was telling me
And tucked me in with a sweet kiss
And when i looked into his eyes
The maps were gone and there wasn't a road or street light to be found
For his eyes were black
And he was already gone

when someone knows how bad you can become;
How much of a mess you can be,
or are;
How much trouble you can cause;
And what words you've been keeping.

..But still -
they want your presence in their days.

They appreciate you,
along with what you can
or cannot give them.

And they make you laugh,
when you don't
even dare to smile.

I stand and speak
And then I walk
Are you happy
With what I squawk