I bit open a lie and it tasted like you.

I could stay drunk for days,
I love the way I can't feel
my legs
or my head
and I can't see
what's in front of me;
I love how I can punch anything
and everything
and not feel it,
and I absolutely love
stumbling home
with ****** knuckles
and laughing at my own
stupidity;
I see inside of myself
when I'm drinking,
I see it all;
all the anger
and the pain,
we don't talk,
just look,
and that is enough,
to know that when I
inform people that there
is so much more to me
than what they see,
and they tell me I'm being
silly,
I know,
I know,
that you exist

the only things I remember about
New York City
in the summer
are the fire escapes
and how the people go
out on the fire escapes
in the evening
when the sun is setting
on the other side
of the buildings
and some stretch out
and sleep there
while others sit quietly
where it's cool.

and on many
of the window sills
sit pots of geraniums or
planters filled with red
geraniums
and the half-dressed people
rest there
on the fire escapes
and there are
red geraniums
everywhere.

this is really
something to see rather
than to talk about.

it's like a great colorful
and surprising painting
not hanging anywhere
else.

I used to be sad
I used to cry everyday
I questioned taking my life
I questioned it often
But what changed me
Was realization

I realized I had a dog
A pet that would wait
For you to come home
A pet that wags his tail
When you come home

And I thought
What if I never came back home?
Would he still wait for me?
And  I realized that pets do not understand death
And they wait for their owners to come home
They will wait to see you again

They do not understand that you're gone
That you are never coming back
But they will continue to wait
With hopes that you will come home
Pets don't understand death