I can still smell
The spit
On my
Fingers
From the
Early hours
Of last
Night
Though
My heart
Is no longer
Racing and
My mind
Has come
To a calm
My face
No longer
Damp
With anxiety
And beer
No longer
On my
Breath.
Yet I
Can still
Smell
The spit
Stuck
To my
Fingers
After
I played
Out
What she
Had done
With you
That night.
I came
Over
After
Two drinks
With
No dinner
After
A car ride
With missed
Stop signs
That I
Should have
Listened to
After
Novel text
Messages
And
Few words
After
A day
Spent
On my
Bedroom
Floor
Next to
A mandala
Diary
And
My colored
Pens
Laying under
My birthday
Blanket
On a stuffed
Animal
By a puddle
Of tissue
Paper
I went over
To your
House
Last night.
Where I
Kissed you
And your
Body
Until spit
Covered
My own
Fingers
Until you
Threw me
Under you
With sudden
Excitement
And ******
And ******
And ******
Me
Until
My breath
Grew shallow
My lungs
Collapsing
Beneath
My chest
Drowning
Beneath
Your body
Until
My temple
Shook
Like a
Stirring sea
Until
Tears came
From my
Face
Like rain
And then
You stopped
You hugged
Me
You asked
Me
Why I did
What she did
With you
Why
Did I want
To replicate
With spit
Sliding
Down my
Fingers
To be a
Replica
Of her
You
Held me
Again
Gave me
Words
Like medicine
Then
When my
Breath
Deepened
And my
Lungs
Rushed air
Into their
Open space
You
Asked me
To finish
What I
Had started
So I
******
And ******
And ******
You
Until
You found
Your finish.

You
With your
Presently
Bending
Curls
Beginning
To grow back
Starting again
To tickle
My fingertips
Your soft hair
Contrasting
Every rough
Outer Edge
That makes up
You
Every Edge
That I have
Only barely
Begun
To soften
Like sharp
Edges
Of my
Childhood
Sea glass
Tumbled
With Sand
I wait
Patiently
To see how
You form

The corners
Of your face
Two
Sharp
Almost
Right Angles
Come together
At your chin
Just below
A blonde
Patch
Of sunlit
Beard
That sits
Beneath
Your
Lower lip
Curling gently
To meet
Its upper
Half
Though rare
To glance
Your direction
And catch
A comet
I call
A smile
Here
is one
of my
Favorite
Pieces
Of you

Your southern
Eyes
Though
Baby blue
Say nothing
Of sympathy
They hold
Cool curiosity
At times
Your gaze
Is softened
Before shifting
Looking past
Me
Settling Shortly
Like you
Then Quickly
Growing
Restless

Your Dimples
Press in
Lifting
The corners
Of your smile
Erasing
Your gruff
Canadian
Edges
Only Briefly
Before exiting
With your
Adorable
British smile
At times
Your little
Crescent moons
Hide
Camouflaged
Into your face
Covered up
By both
Coarse and soft
Red and blonde
Rough and welcoming

Your arms
Hardened
Wrap around
Me
Nothing
Of you
is Forgiving
Your body
Doesn't budge
As I lean
Into yours
With mine
Folding myself
Into your
Chest
Against your
Body
The softest
Part of you
Is me
Like Sandpaper
You rub away
At my skin
Lifted calluses
Of your palm
Take to
Curved Edges
Of my
Rounded corners
All the more
Smooth
in your
Embrace

You
Move
Me
Up
And
Down
You fill
My body
With yours
Pour me
Full
Of curiosity
Of daydreams
Of yesterday
And tomorrow
Emptied
To come back
For More
I want
To keep
My eyes open
While you
Kiss me
I want
To see
You
Like my
Sea glass
Rough
As you
Pull
And
Push
And
Tumble
Away
Softened
Moving
Into me
As the flesh
Of my cheek
Falls
To your chest

A little less
Than a year ago
I picture you:
Your leg wrapped
Around my torso
And propped up
By my hand;
I have a purse,
a drink, and you
adorning my body
Hanging onto me
I am small
You are smaller
A cigarette
Dangles
From your
Left fingertips
Coffee and
Champagne
On your lips
We both wear crowns
Atop
Our seemingly
Stubborn smiles
Happiness
Will not
Relent
I have known
You
For so long
Now
Almost half
Our little lives
Tonight,
I am proud
Of you
It is New Years
You haven’t drank
Too much
You know
This year
Will be a good one
Enough
To tell me so
Enough
For me
To believe
In you
Again
Already
Making changes,
Setting promises
Nothing is the same
Since you
Came home
Two Augusts
Ago
Tonight,
Had never before
Fulfilled
Its cliché promises
But as of tomorrow
We have our chalkboard
Of rainbow colored erase marks
At midnight,
We get to Start
Anew

Standing in
The grocery store
Dazing through
Colored produce
Her hands
Tangled
In her hair
Looking past
The people
Passing
Your ring
On her finger
A little lose
Wires
Of her hair
Clutching
Its turquoise
Edges
Looking
Like she
Is looking
For you
Like She never
Got the phone call
Like an answer
Never came
Like you only hid
In the tall grass
With a small
And laughing
Smile
Like if I shook
Her
I would be
The first
To tell her
Where are her words
I wonder
Falling
From her lips
From her
Mangled mind
Scattered and
Silently pleading
For rearrangement
For a callback
To say
It was all
A miscommunication
They didn’t need
Her daughter
For the role
To hear
It was just
A mistake
The store
Could make
A refund
Because this
Isn’t
What she bought
Standing there
I stare
At her
Staring
Almost blankly
Almost apathetic
Almost just barely
Uneasy
Contemplating:
If she pressed
Hard enough
Into her temples
Wrapping
Her fingers
Deep into
Her hair
If she
Could get it
To become
So quiet
No one around
Remained
Maybe
Time
Could pause
A moment
To breathe
A deep
Breath
Opening a door
For understanding  
Overcome
With relief
Maybe then
She could
Press harder
Releasing
The reel
Of time
Letting it
Roll backward
I almost
Don’t want
To interrupt
Though I know
Her mind
Is not quiet
I place
My hand
On her
Shoulder
Softly
As if
To wake
A sleeping
Baby
I almost
Expect her
To turn
To me
Not knowing
Who I am
To tilt
Her head
Back
Her mouth
Falling open
And her face
To become
Wrought and
Wet
With distress
It doesn’t
She looks
At me
As if removed
From some place
Far from where
We stand
She says
She thought
She saw me
Walk in
I see
Your eyes
In her eyes
She sees
Your memories
In mine
We exchange
Words
Both
Looking
For you
I realize
She thought
She almost
Found you
Until turning
To see only
My face
The hurt
It carries
To her
Placing it
Back
Into the
Front seat
Of her
Memory
Though she
Had been
Far
From forgetting
Standing
Like two
Lovers left
By the same
Lady
An awkward
Almost drunken
Daze
Her heart
More broken
Than mine
It didn’t matter
How much
Either
Of us
Loved
Our lover
Left us
It grows
Silent
I tell her,
I need to go and return my mushrooms

I wish the words would come
That I could “ring them out like the rain”
Even this one though
Doesn’t end for me

Degraded to online prompts
With the delusional last-hope
That these words
Will bring mine some solace

Three prompts shallow
The charmed one stares bashfully back at me
“Write about something or someone you lost”

I used to write about sunshine
Tattooed into your wrist

My eyes incapable of reading past;
The other prompts fall backward
Blank and dull--nothing changed

The page blurred
I know that those are the only words I feel
Even these words though
And the feelings they evoke
Are empty

Nothing holds anything
No laughter in your throat
I see your pictures
I want to dig it out
From the cave of your mouth
Frantic; I need to find your smile
The words spoken only to me
I miss you

My spirit hinges between yesterday and tomorrow
The present isolated—anything but lived
With that thought
You feel even more wasted

‘Wasted’
Prompts the image:
Me slapping myself
Popping the unspoken word from out of my mouth
Wasted
Black letters laying on the floor
in a white wall room
Staring back at me

Erase this stanza
Grow back my charisma
Where did I lose my empathy
Replaced with sick sympathy
How could I say this about you

Worse even,
Is my silence
After hearing from cold lips “what a shame”
The lose breath hangs
The words replaced with brief and noncommittal reflection
Followed by the shake of a faceless head
Before turning back to its newspaper

The word Shame
Stabs slowly
Only because you did make all of your choices
You did leave us

Still, I keep my eyes from casting to the ground
I am not left someplace dingy
There is no soot covering where my cheeks should be rosey
You are not shame

The words do not come
They sit muddied and sopping
A rag dismissed to the few-days-grayed sidewalk
Rain falls and attempts to take in space where there is none
Even a sponge becomes too full
I miss you

Everything means so much more now
Even a stamp pressed perfectly by your once-fingertips
If pressed imperfectly - with the right corner lifted and protruding
The spot where your finger missed means even more
There you are left
Anything but encased
There sits the reality of human character
(Perfectly) flawed

Until your birthday
January kept it's cold claws in Texas until May
Sometimes I wonder if it's you
Who makes it shine or makes it gray
I wonder if those days you are missing us too
Cold holds your shoulders
I hope not
I wonder
If the cold felt refreshing and you thought I'd like it too
You were one for winter
Who hated the heat
And saw beauty
I didn't
In colorless December
Maybe it should have been my birthday in June
And you'd have November
But you were too warm
Don't worry I will always remember
Summer nights with you
Like yesterday
When we first met that May
It was five years past then you left one day
I wrote you
With guilt on my fingers
Like Poe
Dread pulled me from my bed
I didn't know you were leaving
I'd have hugged you longer
Told you twice I loved you
Believed in you
Was proud of you
At least you could read my letters then
Now it's June and there's no sign of you
Just your birth day sitting clouded in the future
I wonder
How that day will feel
Not so lost like January
Maybe isolating like a frozen TV dinner meal
5 months passed since your passing
Life has never felt so long
After witnessing how brief it can be
The days were slow
And January still has it's breeze in me