Whenever I look at your photographs
All I see are smiles.
I can't even see the whites of your eyes
You are so caught up in those moments..
..Living..

I wish I knew what that felt like.
Sure, I have a heartbeat.
But it never skips like yours.
It doesn't flutter with excitement
When something special is taking place.

That's because nothing special exists
Not in my world.
My skin doesn't radiate.
My words do not spread hope..
Not like yours.

I can't deny the fact my
Face contorts into what
You may call a smile,
It's only fleeting.
Flickering..

It's useful when you don't want to..
.. intrude.

Breaking up.
The words still flashing before my eyes,
Days after you’ve said them.
I take another scoop of ice cream,
Trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.
I’m okay, I’m okay.
I see her hands in yours,
I’m not okay.
I cry, and cry and cry. Till it’s all out.
I think I feel better now,
Crying makes everything better.
I get a message from you
I still love you, even if it isn’t the same
But the words morph into
You’re still being friend zoned.
I sigh, refusing to cry again.
Closing my eyes and the darkness is blurred with images of you,
Of us,
Of *happiness.
Then my heart starts to ache again
My eyes snap wide open.
I won’t allow myself to go there again.
I take an elastic band and set to punish myself if I thought of you again.
One day,
Snap.
Two days,
Snap, snap
Three days,
Triple snap.
I think I’m bleeding
And it’s not just my heart.
So I switch to binge watching
While binge eating.
This feels better already
Then the couple on TV decide to kiss,
I hate TV.
I switch to talking.
Moaning,
Complaining,
Crying,
Venting,
Pitying.
Everythi­ng till I’m done feeling sorry for myself.
I stand up straighter and take a deep breath.
Then I get another message from you
You’re the greatest friend ever*
Sigh. I slump back
I hate you.
I’m not talking to you again.
That’s hard
So I drink.
Downing all my sorrows and problems with each shot.
Is it really that difficult to get over a breakup?
I mean, I’ve done it before, so I can do it again
Right?
Well, before him you weren’t in love.
******.
Another shot.
And then I’m done feeling groggy.
Done feeling helpless,
Hopeless,
Useless,
Love-less.
Who needs a man anyway?
I’m fine on my own.
So I smile.
I Laugh,
Have fun till the happiness inside me bursts out.
This feels good.*
The skies seem bluer and the grass feels greener.
I feel incredible.
And then,
Flashbacks.
Kissing,
Smiling,
Holding my hand,
The way you’re looking at me.
Oh great.
*Now I have to start again.

In a crowd she stands alone,
her beauty creeps out.
Mysterious shades of color enchain her captivating allure,
every shade more beautiful than the last.
The efflorescence of a flower fails to image her,
flawless from head to toe.
The illusion of free will quickly fades,
I cannot deny my attraction to her,
She glows.
Warming the room by her graceful movements,
clocks slow, each second delights in her every twirl.
Tick. Toc.
Her look sets me at ease.
Freeing me from my uncertainty, I now clench belief close to my heart,
summoned by a dream with every beat.
I am left in a daydream,
As, she is gone…

love is a cruel
all consuming intensity
a dark crime
watch me crumble
at your feet

I dusted off your picture,
A task I had denied,
But it became embarrassing,
I could no longer hide,
I held it much too long,
My hand caressed the frame,
So long since I had held you,
Nothing is the same,
I stared for much too long,
Such common sense I lack,
Into your eyes I lingered,
Though you cannot look back,
Fighting back the tears,
I returned it to the stand,
Seeking more diversion,
I went to wash my hands,
And now,
I do not touch it,
Its cleanliness,
I’ll trust,
I really need to vacuum,
How I hate to dust
©B L Costello 2016

on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.

They wrote about you.
Named you Goddess and  
Lifted you high above the

Imagined boundaries of your
Spirit and ***.
No longer seeming as little as

You always felt. Well...
The rains came; you became
Umbrella.

Cinderella's indecisive cousin.
Wet now, and not in the
Good, hot way.

Workmen's sweat fresh from
Frustrated chests upon your ever
Forgiving back.

Heathens in the temple.
Berserkers in the
Cathedral.

Male pens, shovels and clamps
Made for grabbing and digging,
Holding up towards God's Skies

And proclaiming, not "Her,"
But: "Mine!"
I've seen it as it is.

Oh, I know. I've been a lifter.
Shoving goddesses into brick sized
Holes, praising the solid

Wall.
You deserve better. Take it from
Iron:

There is not enough
Gold in your
Life.

It is so simple,
We've come undone, but I'd still
Love you 'til the end