i know  you mean nothing to me.
i know you wish you did.
it's unfair for me to call you
to bring you in from the cold
promising a warm bed and
a body to sleep next to.
i promise arms
and lips
i put on perfume
and lipstick.

i tell you
what you find tonight fades in the sun
you say you dont mind
but the rest of you
sings a different song.
i choose to ignore it.

tonight
we love each other
tonight
we are everything
we would
ever
need.

i wish it was this easy
and sometimes i think
maybe the love will come later
with some work.
but we both know
such lies can
ruin lives.
so we take it one night at a time
making no promises
nothing sure
nothing steady
plunging heart first
into a tornado
hoping it will spit us out on
a sunnier side of the world

the music fills the room
an old stero crackle just below
the strings and soft peel of drums.
a blue liquid jazz spills out and drowns the
crummy ***** room i'm in
turning it into a smokey night club
washed in deep lavenders and
plush
wine stained
reds.

a man from the bar buys me a gin fizz.
we sway with the horn
and a singer that croaks out
a rusty mournful wail.
mr. gin fizz smokes
and stares at me
hushing me
everytime i try and speak.

we sway
the singer wails
the drums whisper and scratch
the horn paints
hot liquid yellows
that assault those deep blues and reds.
the gin burns
and the music
fills the room.

squeeze my eyes shut
cementing the image
let the world that was
fall and live in the
dark smokey hole that is just
a nights sleep away.

i am beautiful
and i seep with that silent class
that other women do so easily.
draped in something deep
and silky
something that hugs
and drives men like him into fits.

mr.gin fizz orders another round
and lights another for us both.
the bittersweet blues slowly mix
into cool greens and grays of a
thick bass and a set of drums
thats not afraid to speak up
and introduce themselves.

"where are you off to now?"
you pace.
you always pace when you are mad.

"just out."  i sigh as
i watch you run the carpet to rags.
"could you stop that?"

"out? just out?
all painted up like that?
why the *****'s paint if your
just out." with the carpet gone,
you hit concrete,
dust flies
back and forth back and forth
every sentence a lap
of our small room.

i look at my face for a long time
and add another layer to my
****** mouth
another swipe
of a ****** blush

you're at dirt now
digging down right into the earth
creating a trench that's fit
for any future we might have had.

"just out, just out,
you're always out.
why don't you stay home with me?"
you call up
from your deep dark
hole
you're grave built for two
getting deeper by the second.

i add some waxy lip gloss
the kind a ***** could be proud of,
all pink bubblegum and glitter.
never liked the stuff myself,
makes you look like your drooling.
but i know it makes you mad
and you'll never see me
wipe it off as
i walk out the door and
leave you
to your trench.

another late midnight.
another inky dark.
another night void of sounds.
another night
as the only person awake
in a city of dreamers.

i hate nights like these
when the tide of sleep retreats
and leaves me
sitting and waiting,
staring up into the dark
that sits
a foot in front of my face,
praying i slip under.
praying that the night will be kind.
praying that i will fall asleep before
my mind
turns against me.

the rats chew and wrestle
in the walls
the room creaks and groans
and the nobody that's there
sighs close by my ear.
my mind spins
time stands stubborn and laughing
minutes stretch and bend
and night grows ever darker.
childhood fears,
dripping with anxious sweat,
claws and teeth bared,
are born.

i feel their breath.
i hear their thoughts.
i smell their stink.
they thump and bang around
letting me know,
they could have me anytime they wanted...
any time at all.

the glaring red glow of the old alarm
provides no comfort.
the milky moonlight outside my window
just creates more shadows.
eyes squeezed shut
i beg,
to any malevolent ears
that may be  listening.
please,
just let me fall asleep.

my head is full of blue thoughts,
that i can't shake free.
a heavy fog of the type of thoughts
that make my eyes go runny and red.
the blanket of regrets
and bitter disbelief that offers no warmth.
i wouldn't put stock in it
ever
getting any better then this.
i think of lovers never loved
and bodies never held close
kisses hanging dry in the air,
blown away by carefree mouths.
i want the million little things
that arn't really things
that i know i can never have,
i want the moments lost and forgotten
in the darker shades of grey.
i want and i need,
i beg and i hunger.
but i know,
such things
that arn't really things,
are so far out of reach

picture it.
a unstable pairing of a god
and you
a ugly little girl.
feel the gnawing of
knowing whats happening behind
all those closed doors
that you are too afraid to open.
hear yourself begging the god
to come clean,
to just be honest.
taste the venom in his voice
as the god screams that it's all your fault
listen as the god goes on to explain,
how mean you are
and how if
you just wore a little more make-up
or styled your hair every now and again
maybe
he wouldn't have to run into another woman's arms.
feel the tears roll
as he explains how a girl
like you
was lucky he even looked twice.

picture the stupid
ugly little girl you are
believing god
and begging him to stay.
picture it,
really close your eyes and see
this little tragedy play out.

now hold onto for years
and imagine wondering
every now
and again if
maybe
god was right?
and no matter what anyone says
no matter what you have trained yourself
to believe
imagine gods words
haunting you
for years
and years.

He is coming home in six days.
back from his real life.
far away from
this choking town
he had to get away from.
far away from
the family,
that never understood him.
far away from me,
the girl who,
just happened to be in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

he will come back
and everything will be like it was.
we will laugh again
and drink again
and reminisce of times long gone
again.
i will remember how much i loved him
and he will want a warm body to sleep next to
again.

this sad little cycle
is all we have left.
and he get's to leave
weeks from now,
with his hands clean
and the memory already fading
of this choking little town,
of the family that never understood,
and of that girl that
was just in the wrong place
at the wrong time.