You forgot the breadcrumbs!
Seemingly, always forgetting
the importance of the minute details.
How?!
am I supposed to make this chicken cutlet?!
I lack the ingredient that
ties the dish together.
The egg wash and flour can’t stand alone!
without the crumbs.
But I requested panko,
so it would be crispy.

We were play dates shutting down dive bars, biting off more than we could chew.
The echoes of our laughter
crescendoed over the sea of lonely patrons,
a somber feeling that we unfortunately knew.
Were we captivated by conversations
or had it subconsciously been our eyes all along?
Windows to the soul.
Holding onto the agonies,
that only we would ever truly know.
Our rugged exteriors,
so easily unraveled with subtlety.
Eye contact,
rarely,
if ever,
was it realized so indiscriminately.
I intentionally drug my feet
when we walked the frostbitten winter streets
taking in music
and whatever that feeling was,
because,
we were warned it’s not for us to keep,
we’ll always lose it.
I trailed behind you in a childlike protest,
prolonging the inevitable,
of cleaning up yet another self inflicted mess.
Hands would wander down the alleyways,
our bodies merely in tow,
illuminating the darkness,
to wrestle with our invisible foe.
“You better go.
Now.
I’m beginning to like you.”
Grasping,
pulling,
unwavering grip.
“It’s the way you’d bite my lower lip
and push your hips against my hips”
as you breathed your afflictions into me,
daring me to come home.
All too familiar was the suffering
that pulsed throughout my veins,
displaced residuals of ecstasy, solitude, unrelinquished pain.
What happened to the time?
We tiptoed through a hazy slew
of a hundred halfhearted goodbyes.
I always turned back around
to steal another glimpse though.  
I thought you knew why.

I thought you knew why,


I thought you knew,



I thought…

It is over for you,
when I am done rotting in this room.
I shall rise with sunken cheeks,
donning delicate, alabaster skin
standing alongside my demons
with whom I have made my amends.

I’m sorry. It was winter.
I haven’t been real since the last year.

Let me destroy you,
I promise it will be fun,
just for a minute.



And for the record,
I don’t want to be the fifth,
in your weird ****.

21st,
fresh,
young,  
impressionable.
Idly watching the growing days,
while your nights get shorter and empty,
longing for the return of that tiny
ray of sunshine,
to gently graze your cheek,
beaming more each day.
The moon waits in silence,
right behind,
with tidbits of time on a ticking lip,
two hands on it’s face,
squabbling over who reaches twelve first.
Midnight,
and the sun sleeps earlier,
with every passing second,
longing for resolution,
with the moon right behind,
only off by an hour,
twisting, manipulating,
the tide;
tongue.

Tell me a story,
tell me everything about your days,
the ones that had you laughing into the
never ending, hazy sunsets,
the nights that tore your soul to pieces,
only to leave you void and alone in the
decaying moonlight.
Tell me, please. I would love to just know,
every single idiosyncrasy that
defined your being.
Whisper it shyly if you must,
into the fridgid Winter air that
bites briskly at my cheeks,
in the hollowness that reverberates off
of this desolate city’s streets,
while everyone tucks in early.
Speak slowly, please,
through the melting ice, dripping
onto the pavement while you
help awaken Spring.
Sing a simple song through the
birds rediscovering life,
mutter a word in the commotion
of a typical weekday commute,
plant the seeds of memories,
to bloom in Summer heat
and unnoticeably appear to me.

If I saw you,
you’d be gone just as quickly as you had appeared.
In the blink of an eye,
as if you were a ghost,
teetering on the realm of physical,
breezing by with your presence,
only for it to be felt for a moment,
if that.
Enough time for it to barely register,
and safely return to a state of uncertainty.

crash.
  burn.
   rise;
    from the cigarette ash spilled on the bed.

I sat silently and wished for you,
because prayers couldn’t scratch the surface.

His emerald eyes,
hypnotized,
overanalyzed,
told the boldest lies,
loud as a lion’s cry,
watching chivalry die,
still offering attempts, tries,
to stay alive,
the groans and sighs,
over severed ties,
said otherwise,
only overdramatized,
and swiftly capsized,
in passtime highs,
so it’s always, “See you later”,
never goodbye.

I shall be telling this with a sigh.
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
deep hearted, pure, with the scent of dew,
still wet,
and the rough winds shake the darling buds,
with all her matter of fact about the storm
that’s sweetly played in tune.
But the silence sounds no worse than cheers;
A wild crowd of invisible pleasures.
The faces and darkness separate,
over and over,
covering everything,
blacker than a hundred midnights;
hearts as blithe as birds in a tree;
a broken bird who cannot fly;
unvoiced clamor ******* the air,
intertwining with grief like sea and river.

Please don’t turn out the lights.
You murdered sleep,
taking only what you needed,
leaving me alone to try to dream,
but being the farthest from succeeding.
Left with terrors plaguing unfulfilling rest,
paralysis clawing at my heart,
suffocating,
while resting on my chest.
Lungs fill with water,
while I drown in imagination,
gasping, barely breathing.
“You can come lay with me,
or just roll over and die.”
He ***** at my gasping lips,
my last breath.
Awaken,
only by my piercing scream,
in a cold puddle, sweating.
You took what you wanted.
You murdered sleep.

He stalks rabbits, mice, and birds,
obient to instinct,
often dragging the carcasses home;
a remarkable piece of shallowness.
Who knows what he thinks?
It caught my eye,
noticing everything, yet remembering nothing.
Our eyes locked while something tossed away the key.
The world dismantled and tumbled into that black hole,
of eyes.
The look,
as if two lovers, no,
deadly enemies, met unexpectedly.
It emptied our lungs.
I don’t remember what shattered the enchantment.

I wonder if I was the last girl to kiss you?
You tasted of that twinge of sadness you have after last call when you know you’re only prolonging the inevitable of stumbling home alone.
It was rainy and humid.
The last remnants of the summer radiated out of the cracks in the sidewalks.
We were hazy, drunk off of conversations and monkeys, sitting on my bedroom floor, smoking cigarettes, singing along to Blink on vinyl.
I just had to show you it sounded much better and give you a slight glimpse into my head.
‘I’m Lost  Without You’
Warped.
Broken.
Useless.
Unsalvageable.
Dead.
There was no need for leaving so abruptly. I was hoping that you might be around for more then just a minute.
Turns out you were wrong though.
You broke more hearts than guitar strings. You’ll become hazy, and I’ll just stay crazy.