Keep your hands to yourself,
he's no longer yours to touch.
I tried to play nice with you;
it was a temporary crutch.

Things are complicated enough,
stop trying to toe the line.
You need to understand
that the Angel boy is mine.

Through the coffee steam your eyes were so clear they almost broke me in half.
I took a long selfish look as I told the side of your head about my mother.
You holding your gaze on my windshield
watching the wet lights blur one mile at a time.
Through the curls of your hair I heard you whisper that you didn’t want to leave.
Didn’t want to add your shoe size
to the prints leading away from the kid who’d see the inside of a coffin
long before he ever saw his family again.

I pulled over to force your hand through my sternum, pierced
each finger with a ragged heart tendril
built in the image of winter trees seeded far from the water line.
In this way, information is filtered.
Even with a cup tied to another cup by taut string,
you still don’t get a clear sound.

I shook my head, thinking of reasons to say your name. A taste like dusty paperbacks
flecked in cane sugar.
You got the boring name because your parents birthed you full of splendor,
knew you would never need the extra flourish of a conversation starting nametag.
The kind of person who deserves someone that will die of malnourishment if your plane ever goes down.

You’ve gotten soft old man,
You are no conqueror.
Will never drown out the roar in her 5 a.m.  mind,
can do nothing to comfort the black eyes
and longneck bottles left wandering her past,
with your piecemeal shards of charm and wit.

Part of your winter still clings to my dashboard and frosts my knuckles
each time my eyes close driving home, dreaming about painting red flags green.
Even after I watched the last drag curl out of your lungs,
you never tasted like smoke,
so I filled my lacerations with your nicotine
to hide inside your numbness,
while our bare skin rolled across sheets
looking for new cold
knowing this is not true sacrifice,
but perhaps my final squander.

I would hate to lose my vision
because the world is so beautiful
still, serene, peaceful water,
bright blue skies filled with gray stratus clouds,
dew drops on freshly grown green grass
muddy brown creeks,
with small skipping rocks bouncing,
splashing,
a little kitten, barely old enough
to open sweet little eyes
Tall trees covered in powdery snow,
small puppy prints in the blanket of crisp white velvet

I would hate to lose my sense of hearing
because there's an abundance of sweet sounds.
Kittens purring,
wind blowing,
pitter-pattering rain on an old tin roof,
soft snoring of your lover beside you
people's chatter in the street
laughing ringing out clearly

I miss you.
But I don’t want to be the one that misses you.
I need you to miss me.
I know that we’ll meet again someday, somewhere.
I can feel that in my soul.
The universe isn’t finished with us yet.
Maybe it’s fate, destiny, whatever.
I do believe in that.
But I also believe that you can make your own destiny.
So tell me please
Do I wait for that someday, somewhere?
Or do I find the courage to make it happen now?

There's someone in my heart
whom I've almost lost
Who means the world to me.
He has black hair
and emerald eyes
A kissable mouth
To no surprise.
His kisses are heaven
and our cuddles are loving
and I'm just a brat
who takes everything too seriously
and cries at the drop of a hat
I try so hard
but sometimes it's not enough to me
I love him,
he loves me,
at least most of the time.
Sometimes I think
he may wish I was someone else,
someone sweeter,
nicer,
nothing like me
but then he says he loves me
and I forget those thoughts
and I know he does
just sometimes I don't love myself

I'm here.
I'm there.
I'm unwanted.
Unneeded.
I don't feel wanted
I don't feel needed
I don't feel okay
I don't feel ******* anything but sadness
and love