"you're stupid," she scoffs.

I look up from my pen and paper
and reply, "So sue me."

"If you paid attention to me like you do your **** writing we'd be alright," she sneers.

I pretend not to hear her.
I grab my coat and head out the door.
I can hear that
crazy woman calling
from down the street.
     I smile.
        Life sure is funny sometimes.

As the sun sets, I silently
watch the sky.
I witness as the bright yellows
give way to dark pinks.

The night slowly takes hold.
Each star starts to shine one by one.
I remember a long forgotten night.
It was around this time of day she and I had made love for the first time.
At times like this,
I still swear I can taste you on my tongue.

At the thought,
my lips curve into a sneer.
I laugh a bitter laugh.

In the morning, I'll awake
to a cup of black coffee,
and go to work.
I'll take comfort in
knowing that the hot drink
will burn the taste of you out of my mouth.

I once asked my grand father if he was afraid of death.
He replied with a simple, "I've never feard death. They didn't teach you to die in the military".

The last time I visited his hospital bed, he was barely breathing.
He pulled me close.
I asked if he could see a bright light.

He replied, "no...I've never...been more scared...in my life"

I find myself on long walks.
I enjoy nature. It calms me
to be surrounded by trees
that tower over me.
They look like the large
giants that I used to slay
when I was a kid.
I used to imagine I was a knight.
I used to imagine my future life.
I was optimistic,
           I was bright

This cold walk brings me to a simple place.
A quiet,
            happy setting.

As the snow falls over head,
it brushes gently on my cheek.

At its cold touch, I am brought back to reality.

I am reminded
that these trees aren’t dead.
They are dormant.
They won't feel the same for months

I only hope that one day,
I can live like the trees.

I pray that like the trees,
               I won't feel dead for long.

I once rubbed a crucifix to know
what it was like to be touched by Christ.
It wasn't warm.
He wasn't warm.
He was rusty metal.
A relic.
A man who has long since died.

One day that will be me.
A long lost artifact
Or photograph, that
will be stuffed in a drawer
next to a book and some condoms.

Red wine has stained my white shirt.
I mutter an explitive
and dab at it with a napkin.
"You're too funny"
She grins across the table.
I rarely see her like this.

She's happy; all her
teeth are lined in a semi straight
row.

"*******," I murmur.
She knows I'm joking.
I know she's joking.
Now all we do is fight.
I'm done with the fighting,
and I'm done with the yelling.

I long for the
night where you were truly
happy with me.

I've lost you, my love.
I've lost that beautiful
*smile

"You drink too much.
You smoke too much.
Why do you stay?"

I laugh as
I roll another cigarette.
I slip the paper filter in between
my lips, and
smile.

"I guess I have a death wish."

I light her up,
and puff away.
We'll be up long into the morning.