your eyes are dark as thunderclouds
and sometimes i feel like i could
f
  a
     l
        l
into them.
they consume me
make me breathless

Sometimes,
I wonder,
Do you think about me?
Not a day goes by that
I don't think of you.
The way you
Never failed to tell me you loved me,
Always made my day brighter,
Helped me through my depression,
The way you were there for me in a time where I was at my darkest.
How you hated tomatoes, except on pizza.
How you wanted to be in the Army.
How you called me every night before I went to bed,
Just to tell me I make you happy.
How we planned our wedding,
Named our kids not yet born.
How I kissed the scars on your wrist,
Because they were part of you,
And you were beautiful.

Sometimes,
I wonder,
Did you care at all?
Was it hard to cheat on me
Or was it easy as breathing?
Was it hard to remember to tell me you loved me?
Was it hard to love me at all?
Did I not try hard enough or too much?
Did you forget what you promised me,
Or did you not care?
Was it easy to leave her?
Was it easy to lead me on?
Was it easy to leave me the way you found me,
Broken and hopeless?

Sometimes,
I wonder,
How I got through those lonely nights,
Sobbing into my pillow
Because I lost the only light that I had.
How I knew no one could love me the way you did,
If you loved me at all.
How I didn't just drag that knife over my neck
As I dreamed of doing so many times.
How you left me with the monsters in my head,
With no love to fend them off.


Sometimes,
I wonder,
Do you think about me?
Because I think of you.
Every day.
You were the first man I loved,
And the first person who taught me that
Love can destroy.
Because your love destroyed me.
You built me up,
And tore me down.
Do you think about how you hurt me?
How I cried over the phone,
When I told you I could no longer be with you.
When I chose my own sanity over our toxic love.
Over my toxic love.


Every day,
I remember
All the pain you put me through.
How the good times don't make the bad times more bearable.
How I wish you the best,
Because you weren't a bad person.
You were a ****** person,
Leading me on when you didn't really care.
But you weren't bad.
So I hope you get everything you deserve in life.
Because,
Sometimes,
The best way of moving on
Isn't letting go,
It's showing the person who did you wrong kindness,
And hoping they drown in it.

Little maidens, when you look
On this little story-book,
Reading with attentive eye
Its enticing history,
Never think that hours of play
Are your only HOLIDAY,
And that in a HOUSE of joy
Lessons serve but to annoy:
If in any HOUSE you find
Children of a gentle mind,
Each the others pleasing ever--
Each the others vexing never--
Daily work and pastime daily
In their order taking gaily--
Then be very sure that they
Have a life of HOLIDAY.

Beneath long lashes, misty clad,
      Your limpid eyes are sometimes sad;
            They bring to mind a homeless waif
                  Engulfed in rain with nowhere safe

Most times I find a cheerful light
      Within your eyes that sparkles bright,
            And though my thoughts I try to hide
                  My happiness wells up inside

At dawn I see your eyes aglow
      Like founts through which your passions flow;
            And when I’m low they always loom
                  Like morning glories through the gloom

Your smile ashine beneath my gaze
      Effulgent eyes beam all ablaze:
            A look, a touch, a kiss I yearn,
                  You slowly make my body burn

While at your side and in a heap
      I scanned your eyes, half closed, asleep,
            And as you slept with pillow clutched,
                  Your eyelids with my lips I touched

And if you’ve ever wondered why
      I try to search within each eye,
            Though past is past, your eyes remind
                  Of bygone times when love was kind

Yet, though your eyes still cast a spell
      They seem to bid a fond farewell,
            Reflecting but a fading storm
                  Although I know your thoughts are warm

But now our paths will part, alas,
      For good things always come to pass;
            Perhaps it lies within God’s ken
                  That someday we may meet again

I want to be made, just a memory,
not concrete, just something abstract,
a play of the mind, real or unreal,
a question to be answered, but never been,

I want to be made, just a picture,
body-less, with nothing, to key the clogs
of a futile mind, left unacknowledged,
but for my colors grimacing at you,

I would want to be, just a single word,
you would sometimes, recite in your sleep,
having no soul, no truth, no reality to cope with,
defined by those letters, stringed together,

I would want to be a ripple on the pond,
in which you can see, your own distortion,
ignoring the worthlessness of me, the me
being left whirling around, in concentric circles,

I would want to be, the blow of air,
that comes by, to kiss your cheeks,
and you take it in, not having seen me,
being I am nothing but gas and vapor,

I would want to be, a single grain of soil,
indistinguishable, among many others,
of the same size, color, and shape,
broken up into a minute existence,

I would want, to be the dew drop,
of your red eyes, unnoticed, sneaking,
surviving in your pain, I am lost
when you wipe me away, to oblivion,

I would want to be a thing with no life,
for life has betrayed me, much and I shall
rest, as that memory, sand grain, blow of air,
or eye pearl, ripple, picture or just a mere word

Alone is not lonely
Lonely is much worse
by my self most of the time,I find little things to do
But the hole in my heart makes me lonely.
You are gone. I held your hand as you left me. knowing you body needed the peace and rest,
Did it make it easy?
OH No, It made me feel alone,
Now these years later I'm lonely and only you could feel that spot.
I'll be Alone again tomorrow but it isn't the same.
By  tomorrow night I'll be lonely again and that is much worse

short-handed love letters
written in the daydreams of a deliberate narcoleptic.

i send you the paper plane promises of summer
(sealed tightly in sweaty palmed envelopes)

you're not one to read poetry
yet i always manage to find feather light stanzas draped across your shoulders
held down by nothing more
than freckled thumbtacks

years fall away
like too heavy eyelashes onto cheeks

waiting to be brushed away
by the callused fingers of patient lovers

our slow and natural tendencies
our lips mimic the rate of gravity

you use a box cutter to lengthen the creases in my palm

but borrowed time
and fickle fate
will never heal heartbreak