There’s a puddle of tears for you
That I’ve left in the ashtray beside the bed
In all the infinitesimal moments
When I had too many things to do
Putting them away, one by one
Until I had enough for,
For one exodus of the grief
Like wringing your hands
Over the milk you spilled
Three years ago

So now I might have enough
To assuage the pride
They’re accounted for, every one
Maybe it’s loneliness I’m seeing
But I can still feel you
Like you aren’t gone forever
And you’re holding up these strings to keep my arms
And legs
And mouth moving
So I can pretend to be alright without you
And I hope you know that I was
Tying to cry
In august,
On main street
Or in the rain on the walkway.
But it just wasn’t the same
And I couldn’t make it real.
So I’m saving them now to show you
What it is, when I’m wearing your green t-shirt
And when I’m sick, and the only thing I can do
Is feel like ****

Shall I compare you to wonderful things?

I’m not so sure.
Likely you’d find it
Slightly off-putting
Or maybe emotional,
Too seriously gossamer
Like a blueberry muffin
Dressing up
In a bride and groom cake topper.

So I guess
To hell with you anyway
One day you’ll have a box full of
Printed concert tickets
And all of silicon valley
filled with e-mails
Random statements exchanged for nothing
Placeholders of what we might have actually
Said
To each other

Letters that smell like incense and lotion
And sketches that smell like beer
Are outdated
But kisses in a library are better
Than *** in a dance rave.

And you’d rather be someone’s lover
Than to be loved by someone.
Or be preferentially bombarded by
Tones alerting you of some alternate reality
Because I’m just talking to you without intention
but that’s not true
and I’m not wires and gears
and maybe you should find
someone you can write checks for
and I’ll die
without finding a soul
to love me in a poem